There was a time when every gay man in West Hollywood was walking around with either a copy of Frontiers or In Magazine, held tightly in hand. Not only did they feature a bevy of hot guys, but they also included queer celebrity interviews, hot topics, and a weekly photo diary of the community that every socialite thirsted to appear in. Beyond serving as queer pop culture’s pre-tech answer to social media, they were also brands that united a community that continued to lose members to the AIDS epidemic. Looking back, they weren’t just glossy magazines; they served as part of the glue that kept Los Angeles’ queer community together.

Much of the publications’ success was due to David Stern, who went from top salesperson to co-owner of both magazines.  There wasn’t anyone in town who didn’t know Stern. He brought business sense and sincerity to the company and knew how to be the life of the party. He helped the magazines, and in turn, the community, thrive.

It’s hard to envision that version of David Stern as the young boy who showed up on Hollywood Boulevard, as a runaway, with literally no clothes or money to call his own. This young boy was running away from a volatile and abusive household where his sexuality served as his undoing; he was running away from the PTSD he acquired when his father fell down an elevator shaft to his death when Stern was just 15 years old. By the grace of a drag queen, perseverance, and the queer community that, when times get tough, can support its own.

Elevator Boy, as told from an intimate and very naked point of view, tells the story of how he overcame a tumultuous past to become the man who ran a media empire. The story is not a bed of roses, and his rise to success was not without even more cuts and bruises. Stern does not shy away from the details here as he dives deep into his past. Drugs, sex, AIDS, friendship, and an unhealthy relationship with his mother all play roles in this tale.

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Stern does not stop his story with his success. He is not afraid to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and shoves a spotlight into the seedy and illegal practices that were happening at his publications, unbeknownst to him. The empire was taken away from him, and eventually crumbled. Despite the challenges that Stern has faced throughout his entire life, the novel is not doom and gloom. There is a strong spirit here, a queer joy, that describes how our queer courage and perseverance will get us through. Our real family is made up of those whom we choose, who have been there for us unconditionally. This book is an inspiration. We can get through anything.

Stern started Elevator Boy over ten years ago, when he walked away from the Frontiers empire. It took that long for him to be able to face his past and put it down in words. The pain, the joy, the good, the bad, it is all here. What a moving and truly intimate life share that not only tells a compelling personal story of survival, perseverance, and hope, but also shares a slice of gay history that all generations should be exposed to.

In today’s political and social climate, well-told stories like Stern’s are imperative for the queer community to understand what kind of trailblazing energy we come from, and what we can do to overcome.

We had the opportunity to talk with Stern about it all. He did not hold back.

 What was the final inspiration to tell your story? 

I want to use my story to raise awareness that the rate of homelessness for LGBTQ youth is the same today as it was in the mid-70s, when I ran away from home and ended up on the streets. That rate is 120% higher than their heterosexual peers in the same age bracket. 

Why is now the time and not before? 

It’s been a little over a decade since my career came to an abrupt halt after 26 years of serving the community with my publications, Frontiers and IN Los Angeles magazines. Plus, I recently turned 65. If not now, when?

Your story is one of complete resilience. To what do you attribute your insistence on overcoming all your many challenges? 

Thank you for acknowledging that. Since every chapter is a song title, I will refer you to it. “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength” by our dearly departed diva, Whitney Houston. (chapter 18) She sings my feelings with such passion. When I was younger, I would say, sheer defiance. As I’ve grown older, I would say that having tenacity and believing that everything happens for a reason are important. Try to learn, and in my case, re-learn the lessons from the journey.

What do you want our current younger queer generation to understand most about the era you came out in?  

I would say the common thread of the teen runaways of the ’70s and the AIDS survivors of the ’80s and ’90s is how the LGBTQ community came together and took care of their own. From Sugar Love, the transgender hooker who rescued me on Hollywood Blvd at 16, to all the lesbians who stepped up to take care of their dying brothers in the face of AIDS. It was a community bonded in survival.

The AIDS epidemic plays a big part in your life. What comes to mind when reflecting on that time? 

Since I think lyrically, I’ll say, “I’m Still Here” in E-flat, written by Stephen Sondheim. Now to be serious… AIDS taught me everything I know about life after death and how to communicate with those on the other side of the veil. It reinforced the lesson I learned the day my dad fell down the elevator shaft: life can change on a dime, and take nothing for granted.

It must have been bittersweet visiting your past. How did you mentally get through the writing process and rehashing difficult parts of your life?  

This was a ten-year writing process. It started with me being so depressed that I couldn’t function. I’d morphed back into feeling like a worthless, homeless teen instead of a successful publisher. I began writing about that time period, which is the first chapter of my book, Hollywood Nights. From there, I wrote down songs that gave me a sense of memory, and I listened to them as I danced around my house, remembering while I laughed and cried at the absurdity of my life.

I will say that writing what became the second and third chapters of the book about my attempt at suicide sent me into two years of EMDR therapy to help with processing the memories. PTSD has created some interesting survival skills I was not aware I had.  

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Forgiveness can be difficult for many of us queer folk. Your relationship with your mother was tumultuous, to say the least. How did you get to a point of forgiveness, and why was that so important?  

I think a bigger question is, how did my mother get to a point of forgiveness with me? I caused her so much grief when I was growing up. When I got sober at age 27 and turned my life around, our relationship had room to grow into a beautiful friendship because I was showing up as a functioning human being and not a raging drug addict.

The areas of forgiveness that have been more challenging for me are with my former business partners. I return to a very simple philosophy. I don’t know what life lessons they were meant to learn through our shared experience. I can only ask, what lessons am I supposed to learn? In the end, it comes down to forgiving myself most of all.

Loss also plays a big part in your book. What is your message to those who have dealt with great loss in the queer community? 

Everybody grieves differently. Be kind and gentle with yourself and others. I can feel the presence from the other side; some can’t or don’t believe that. To them, I say, find comfort in remembering their smile, the quirky things done by the departed that make you laugh, and cherish the time you had.

Was it hard to leave West Hollywood and start a new chapter of your life? 

Surprisingly, no. My husband and I met in Palm Springs nearly 20 years ago, so moving to the “scene of the crime” was a beautiful full-circle moment for us.

What do you miss most about West Hollywood of yesteryear?  

My own youth. A thriving print media with trusted journalists on the ground vetting and telling our stories, and the infamous West Hollywood Athletic Club.

What is the mission of your book? 

To bring hope, uplift, and heal, while preserving an era of LGBTQ history.

What do you want audiences to walk away with most? 

If I can overcome all the obstacles in my life, you can rise above yours, too!

You also dive into a controversial and tumultuous time in queer print media in SoCal. You catalog your rise and fall in the industry and the corruption that took place. Why was it so important to come out and tell the story? 

There is an effort underway to erase our history. I have always provided platforms for the voices of the LGBTQ+ community. We will not be erased. I will not be erased. Our history is important, so I’m setting the record straight. Frontiers Media was a pioneer for the LGBTQ community. I am just walking in my shoes again. Pioneering the power of LGBTQ+ voices, and that voice starts with me.

You saw the evolution of queer media and were a part of it. What is your current take on queer media – what is it getting right, what is it missing? 

Regarding queer media, I’ve been out of the loop for a decade, but I will share my thoughts on the state of media in general. The following is the Preface of my book:

TODAY, AMERICA IS FACING A MEDIA CRISIS. It began in the 1980s when AIDS, ignored by the mainstream press and government, was raging on. Congress eliminated the Fairness Doctrine that opened a Pandora’s box, allowing the news media to turn into a tool for brainwashing. A functional, modern society needs courageous, trusted journalists on the ground to verify stories and report facts. Trusted news sources are shrinking as the media landscape becomes increasingly fragmented. Future generations will be trapped in this tower of babble, never distinguishing fact from fiction as the hope for freedom and justice fades. Society must find its way back to the earnest quest for truth. In the mid-1970s, at age sixteen, tragedy, fear, denial, and wild abandon turned my world upside down. I ran away from the newly developing suburbs of St. Louis. The parks and back alleys of the U.S. were home to over a million runaway youths. Sexual liberation defined the era. Compared to their heterosexual peers, the homelessness rate among LGBTQ+ youth was 120% higher. This ratio remains unchanged today. Elevator Boy is set in a time when news didn’t drown in the chaos of alternative facts, and meaningless opinions weren’t passed off as truth. Our anti-hero struggles with PTSD from childhood trauma, while society suffers from the same ailment caused by electronic information overload. Sound bites disguised as news are short-circuiting the system. Recognizing the illness is half the battle. Let the healing begin.

How does it feel to now have your life completely out in the open? There’s no going back.  

It is completely freeing and healing.

What is your message to the younger queer generation? 

Be kind to each other, and remember that Snapchat, TikTok, Instagram, or whatever, are not news sources. Learn how to vet facts.

David is currently working on his next book, a volume of poetry titled “The World of Rhyme and Reason.”

Elevator Boy – An Otherworldly Memoir is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or wherever books are sold.

It’s undeniable how much fashion has been involved in the fight for Queer liberation. Whether it be glamorous gowns or sharp suits, one’s ability to dress as their most authentic self has always been integral to the push for LGBTQ+ rights in this country. Los Angeles is lucky to have multiple venues that encourage folks to come as their truest selves — among the best nights of self-expression is the beautifully ingenious TransLatin@ Coalition’s GARRAS fashion show. 

This showcase of Los Angeles’ best designers has become an annual celebration of this city’s trans community. Featuring glamorous decorations, a bustling crowd, and a runway filled with gender-expansive models decked out in truly jaw-dropping fashion, it stands as one of the most exciting evenings LA has ever seen. And while GARRAS (which stands for Groundbreaking Activism Redirecting & Reforming All Systems) has always fought against transphobia, 2025’s iteration promised to be bigger and better than ever in response to the rising discrimination we’ve seen in recent months. 

“It’s beautiful to create this space where we can come together, celebrate joy, celebrate the diversity, the beauty, the uniqueness of the trans community! And what better way to do it than with fashion — we are one of the most fashionable communities!“ Said Maria Roman-Taylorson, TransLatin@ Coalition’s Vice-President & COO. “We’re just excited to give a platform for folks to have a good time too, in such a horrible political landscape.“ It’s a sentiment that the organization has held tightly to in recent months; while transphobia has always existed in this country, the current presidential administration is intent on villainizing this community and stripping away their hard-earned rights. Yet despite this year being filled with constant attacks, the TransLatin@ Coalition has not slowed down. Whether it be through GARRAS or the organization’s countless other services and programs, they’re ready to show that the trans community is bigger and more beautiful than it’s ever been before.  

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While GARRAS was a night of advocacy, that doesn’t mean the evening skimped on glitz and glamour. From the decorations to the music, it embraced a beautifully bombastic style, one that was reflected in the guest list; the venue was packed with stars at every turn. And not only were they in attendance, but some, like the legendary model and drag queen, Gia Gunn, were being honored. 

“Considering I didn’t win RuPaul’s Drag Race, it feels really great to win something in my life!“ Joked Gia, recipient of the night’s ‘Trans Spirit of Resilience’ Award. “I’m continuously reminded that my power as a trans woman is the only thing that I have left to get through these next couple of years, and I want everybody here to also feel empowered to show up. Regardless of whether someone’s giving you an award or not, we always have to remember to reward ourselves for the good things that we do; that’s beautiful.“

Her words hit the true heart of GARRAS: a reminder of the power that the trans community holds. This entire evening, along with a celebration of queer fashion, served as a thank you to this group that is responsible for paving the way for the LGBTQ+ rights movement, in the past and today. It’s an ongoing mission that everyone shared this evening simply by being in attendance, and in many ways, it wouldn’t be possible with the President and CEO of TransLatin@ Coalition herself, Bamby Salcedo.

“We have to understand that…through organizing and mobilizing and making sure that we do what we’re supposed to for us to assert ourselves in our society, we’re going to continue doing whatever we can to ensure that we exist as who we are,” said Bamby, decked out in a luxurious emerald gown and preparing for her performance on the GARRAS stage. Any LGBTQ+ Angelino should know the impact she’s had on this city; for decades, Bamby’s brazen activism and refusal to stay quiet in the face of hatred have led to so many of the trans services LA has today. And as one of the initial engineers of GARRAS, she understands more than anyone else how essential nights like this are for the community. 

Because, yes, it is essential that LGBTQ+ folks — and especially trans people — have access to vital daily resources and the power to advocate for themselves. But in that ongoing activism, we can’t forget joy. We can’t forget an appreciation of the people now and before who made it possible for so many queer folks to live as their utterly authentic selves. Through the bright joy of everyone in attendance and the raucous applause at each designer and model, GARRAS served as a moment dedicated to reminding everyone that there is no movement without love and appreciation of one another. 

This appreciation wouldn’t be possible without Bamby. And, ending her interview to go prepare for her performance at the end of the night, this trailblazing activist assured everyone: TransLatin@ Coalition is not going anywhere. 

“Despite everything that is happening, we’re still going to bring hope to all of our people,” raved Salcedo. “We have so many things in store! One of the things that I want to let people know that we’re doing is that we’re building a center, a three-story center…we’re going to continue to support our community with services and organizing, making sure that we do what we need to in order for us to continue to exist and assert ourselves in our society.”

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It’s an awe-inspiring mission that has always been at the heart of this organization’s work. And, with evenings like GARRAS revitalizing our community and giving us the pure queer joy we need to power through, it’s one she welcomes everyone to join in making a reality.

For more info, head to GARRAS.org

For legendary professional boxer Christy Martin, never in a million years did she expect to see the riveting story of her rapid rise to fame onscreen.

“When somebody first contacted me about turning my life into a movie, I thought they were joking,” Martin said at a recent Golden Globes press event for her movie, “Christy.”

“I was so afraid that my life would be as I call it, Hollywoodized.”

Martin was put at ease once she saw how committed co-screenwriters Mirrah Foulkes, and Australian filmmaker David Michôd were to the material, and how relentless actress Sydney Sweeney was to accurately portray her. 

“Mirrah was very fair to me and treated me great on the paper … I feel like this is the most powerful group that could ever come together to tell my story,” she acknowledged.

In “Christy,” viewers see Martin’s combative spirit, in her ongoing quest to win each fight. Under her demanding coach turned manager-husband Jim Martin (played by Ben Foster), Christy is fearless in the boxing ring, yet increasingly troubled as she deals with the pressure of her mother, sexual identity issues, drugs, and a physically abusive marriage that almost ended in death.

“It’s crazy to see anybody, but especially Syd, become me,” she told the Los Angeles Blade. “It’s overwhelming! A little much for a coal miner’s daughter from a small town in southern West Virginia.” 

For Sweeney, who is also a producer on the film, playing the courageous lesbian boxer has been a life-changing experience. “This is the most important character I have ever played. It’s the most important story I have ever told or will tell. It’s an immense honor to bring her to life.”

To become Martin, Sweeney worked hard to absorb as much information on her as possible. 

“I had the real Christy, and then I had years and years of interviews and fight footage and her book and her documentary on Netflix that I was able to pull from. I like to build books for my characters, to create their entire life, from the day they’re born until the first time you meet them onscreen. So just kind of filling out the entire puzzle of Christy here.”

Sweeney said the many scenes where Martin’s mom couldn’t accept she was gay were immensely challenging to be a part of.

“That was probably one of the hardest scenes for me,” Sweeney noted. “I have very supportive parents, and I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have your mom or dad to turn to ask for help or guidance or just need support. So it was a very difficult scene to process.”

Equally challenging was the rigorous process Sweeney went through in order to become Martin in the movie. 

“It was a huge physical transformation for me. I trained for two-and-a-half months before we even started filming, and I put on 35 pounds for the role, so it was a big transformation.”

As difficult as it was to deal with a film that dives into domestic violence, Sweeney was able to shake the character off when she was done at the end of each day.

“I have a rule for myself where I don’t allow any of my own thoughts or memories into a character. So when the moment they call ‘cut,’ I’m back to being Syd, and I leave it all in the scene, and that’s the story that I’m telling. Otherwise I’m just me; so I go home when I’m me.”

Martin hopes that audiences leave the theater with a sense of faith.

“I think we showed a path of how to get out of any situation that you might be in. And also, it’s very important to be true to you. Sometimes that takes a while — it took me a little while — but I’m happy to be true to me. And that’s what we want; the whole story is about being who you are.”

Sweeney would love viewers to walk away and demand to be “Christy Strong.”

“I hope that they want to be kind and compassionate to others around them, and be that helping hand. Christy’s story is singular, and yet her story of triumph, survival and continuation, supports those who are in experiences of domestic violence behind closed doors. She is one of the great champions.”

Sweeney loves that Martin is also a great advocate of new boxing talent. “That spark of life is something that I think at the end of the day, ‘Christy’ is about– it’s the spark to keep going and be who you are proudly.”

It’s well-known that the portrayal of queer people in the media directly impacts their treatment in society. Whether it be gay relationships in sitcoms or trans people in film, viewers take lessons from these projects into how they treat these identities in real life. It’s why onscreen representation is essential, and why the entertainment industry’s long-documented discrimination towards LGBTQ+ performers is so unfortunate. In a city like Los Angeles filled with marginalized actors, it’s particularly devastating to see companies reinforce the unfair barriers that have always harmed our communities…and it’s why LA-based production company Dropout is more important now than ever.

Founded in 2018, Dropout has steadily become one of the biggest streaming services today. An evolution of the YouTube channel CollegeHumor, it’s made waves with inventive programming and an innovative approach to production — all while constantly spotlighting the best LGBTQ+ performers this city has to offer. The Los Angeles Blade sat down with CEO Sam Reich and performer Ally Beardsley to discuss how Dropout rose to become one of the most consistent sources of queer media. They broke down the many ways it not only platforms marginalized identities but nourishes up-and-coming performers, highlighting just how easily companies (and LA’s entertainment industry as a whole) can cultivate a culture based as much on creating great content as it is on inclusive respect.

When asked what it’s like working as an actor in LA, Sam Reich summarized the experience with three words: “It’s absolutely brutal.” And he would know better than your average CEO; before rising as the head of Dropout, Sam spent many years as an aspiring actor in both Los Angeles and New York. “This industry…it’s not only an industry with gatekeepers, but [one] of people who make their money gatekeeping.” He detailed the toxic casting practices that all performers face and the uniquely unfair ways that companies make it hard for new actors to find success. As productions primarily focus on multimillion dollar projects, these companies are unwilling to spare funds for new voices — voices that overwhelmingly belong to LGBTQ+ and POC creatives. This has created a bleak environment for these hopeful performers, one that Ally Beardsley knows well…or, at least, they did before Dropout. 

“What I feel is absolutely not what other people are feeling,” said Ally, a nonbinary comedian who’s been a regular on Dropout for almost a decade. They described the grueling difficulties of trying to make it as an actor, ones that are intricately more difficult for LGBTQ+ performers who can find their identities disrespected at every step of the creative process. And then, they spoke on how they’ve largely evaded that treatment for years by being a part of Dropout, comically claiming that they feel, “Hashtag Blessed,” to be a regular with the company.

It’s an issue that has intensified in recent months, as a rise in conservative rhetoric has led to many companies going back on the commitments to DEI that they made in recent years. As shown in GLAAD’s Annual Studio Responsibility Index, this has led to a huge lull in inclusion as queer-centric shows continue to be cancelled while even more fail to create characters that mirror this diverse community. This has highlighted an alarming lack of representation in the media — a problem that Dropout has never had to deal with.

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Whether it’s the constantly evolving Game Changer or hilariously informative Smartypants, Dropout’s many shows almost always feature openly LGBTQ+ performers in their casts. And this goes beyond just contestants; with famous Drag Queen Monét X Change and renowned comedians Vic Michaelis, Jordyn Myrick, and Mano Agapion, the streaming service makes history by having multiple programs hosted by openly queer artists. When asked how Dropout set such a high bar for inclusion, Sam Reich clarified, “It’s not that we are setting a high bar for inclusivity — I think that, in general, the bar is low for decency.”

 “Are we being inclusive, or are we just not being exclusive?” The CEO went on. “We are trying to make the best comedy in LA, and a lot of the best comedians are queer and POC…so if we are being true to our goal, we are hiring them!” He described how the company actively creates an affirming workplace for these performers, not only recognizing their diverse identities but also the universal plight of being an actor today. “There are so many people who want to do this for a living that it’s easy to be taken advantage of,” he continued, going on to discuss how all creatives who come to Dropout with auditions or pitches are compensated — whether they’re cast or not. “We really try to discourage free work as much as possible.” 

This is an almost unheard-of practice in LA, and it’s only a small part of the affirming environment that Ally has seen develop over their years with Dropout. “When a new person who just happens to be diverse shows up…everybody really has their back. And I think that’s so important, because when you have representation without support, you’re just leaving that person out to [fail].” Ally happily attested this culture to Sam’s actions as a CEO, ones that range from capping his own salary to secure fair pay for workers to ensuring that people’s pronouns are prominently listed on every call sheet to avoid misgendering. 

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These were accolades that the self-described “relatively straight white man” humbly refuted, saying that he cannot take sole credit for Dropout’s inclusivity. But as the interview wound down, he did express his hopes for a better entertainment industry in not only LA, but the entire country. From government funding for art programs to productions being open to new voices, he envisions a media where historically underserved performers are given the resources they deserve. And, when asked about his thoughts on the dismal rates of inclusion we’ve been seeing from other companies and streaming services, Sam had this to say.

“When Trump got re-elected, I think that a lot of Hollywood thought that ‘regressive content’ would be [popular], and I fundamentally don’t think that’s true. Dropout’s success is evidence of that.” After taking a moment, he continued, “The point of art is to connect us to our fellow human beings. And if you don’t have stories that come from a [wide] range of human experience, you’re just not fulfilling the purpose of art like that…and then why are any of us doing this at all?”

It’s a sentiment that all of LA’s entertainment industry could benefit from. And it’s one that Sam and Ally hope to spread across the city — one paid audition at a time. 

‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages

It had to start somewhere.

The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.

The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.

“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.

Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.

William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.

Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”

Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”

Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.

While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.

The Blade may receive commissions from qualifying purchases made via this post.

In any year prior to this one, there would be nothing controversial about “Nuremberg.”

In fact, writer/director James Vanderbilt’s historical drama – based on a book by Jack El-Hai about the relationship between Nazi second-in-command Herman Göring and the American psychiatrist who was tasked with studying him ahead of the 1945 international war crimes trial in the titular German city – would likely seem like a safely middle-of-the-road bet for a studio “prestige” project, a glossy and sharply emotional crowd-pleaser designed to attract awards while also reinforcing the kind of American values that almost everyone can reasonably agree upon.

This, however, is 2025. We no longer live in a culture where condemning an explicitly racist and inherently cruel authoritarian ideology feels like something we can all agree upon, and the tension that arises from that topsy-turvy realization (can we still call Nazis “bad?”) not only lends it an air of radical defiance, but gives it a sense of timely urgency – even though the true story it tells took place 80 years ago.

Constructed as an ensemble narrative, it intertwines the stories of multiple characters as it follows the behind-the-scenes efforts to bring the surviving leadership of Hitler’s fallen “Third Reich” to justice in the wake of World War II, including U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon), who is assigned to spearhead the trials despite a lack of established precedent for enforcing international law. Its central focus, however, lands on Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek), a psychiatrist working with the Military Intelligence Corps who is assigned to study the former Nazi leadership – especially Göring (Russell Crowe), Hitler’s right-hand man and the top surviving officer of the defeated regime – and assess their competency to stand trial during the early stages of the Nuremberg hearings. 

Aided by his translator, Sgt. Howie Triest (Leo Woodall), who also serves as his sounding board and companion, Kelley establishes a relationship with the highly intelligent and deeply arrogant Göring, hoping to gain insight into the Nazi mindset that might help prevent the atrocities perpetrated by him and his fellow defendants from ever happening again, yet entering into a treacherous game of psychological cat-and-mouse that threatens to compromise his position and potentially undermine the trial’s already-shaky chances for success.

For those who are already familiar with the history and outcome of the Nuremberg trials, there won’t be much in the way of suspense; most of us born in the generations after WWII, however, are probably not. They were a radical notion at the time, a daring effort to impose accountability at an international level upon world leaders who would violate human rights and commit atrocities for the sake of power, profit, and control. They were widely viewed with mistrust, seen by many as an opportunity for the surviving Nazi establishment to turn the fickle tides of world opinion by painting themselves as the victims of persecution. There was an undeniable desire for closure involved; the world wanted to put the tragedy – a multinational war that ended more human lives than any other conflict in history before it – in the rear-view mirror, and a rush to embrace a comforting fantasy of global unity that had already begun to disintegrate into a “cold war” that would last for decades. “Nuremberg” captures that tenuous sense of make-it-or-break-it uncertainty, giving us a portrait of the tribunal’s major players as flawed, overburdened, and far from united in their individual national agendas. These trials were an experiment in global justice, and they set the stage for a half-century’s worth of international cooperation, even if it was permeated by a deep sense of mistrust, all around.

Yet despite the political and personal undercurrents that run beneath its story, Vanderbilt’s movie holds tight to a higher imperative. Judge Jackson may have ambitions to become Chief Justice of SCOTUS, but his commitment to opposing authoritarian atrocity supersedes all other considerations; and while Kelley’s own ego may cloud his judgment in his dealings with Göring, his endgame of tripping up the Nazi Reichmarschall never wavers. In the end, “Nuremberg” remains unequivocal in its goal – to fight against institutionalized racism, fetishized nationalism, and the amoral cruelty of a power-hungry autocrat.

Yes, it’s a “feel-good” movie for the times (if such a term can be used for a movie that includes harrowing real-life footage of Holocaust atrocities), a reinforcement of what now feels like an uncomfortably old-fashioned set of basic values in the face of a clear and present danger; mounted with all the high-dollar immersive “feels” that Hollywood can provide, it offers up a period piece which comments by mere implication on the tides of current-day history-in-the-making, and evokes an old spirit of American humanism as it wrangles with the complexities of politics, ethics, and justice that endure unabated today. At the same time, it reminds us that justice is shaped by power, and that it’s never a sure bet that it will prevail.

et while it’s every inch the well-produced, slick slice of Hollywood-style history, “Nuremberg” doesn’t deliver the kind of definitive closure we might long for in our troubled times. For all its classic bravado and heartfelt idealism, it can’t deliver the comforting reassurances we desire because history itself does not provide them. The trials were not an unequivocal triumph; though they may have set a precedent in bringing accountability to power on the world stage, it’s one which, eight decades later, has yet to be fully realized. Vanderbilt doesn’t try to rewrite the facts to make them more satisfying, or soften the blow of their hard lessons, and while his movie certainly feels conscious of the precarious times in which it arrives, it doesn’t try to give us the kind of wish-fulfillment ending we might long to see – which ultimately gives it a ring of bitter truth and reminds us that our world continues to suffer from the evil of corrupt men, even when they are defeated.

It’s a movie populated with outstanding performances. Crowe delivers his most impressive turn in years as the chillingly malevolent Göring, and Malek channels all his intensity into Kelley to create a powerfully relatable flawed hero for us to cheer; Shannon shines as the idealistic but practical Jackson, and Woodall provides a likable everyman solidity to counter Malek’s volatile intensity. It might feel early to talk about awards, but it will be no surprise if some of these names end up in the pool of this year’s contenders.

Is “Nuremberg” the anti-Nazi movie we need right now? It certainly seems to position itself as such, and it admittedly delivers an unequivocal condemnation of the kind of fascist, inhuman mentality that permits such extremist ideologies to take power. In the end, though, it leaves us with the awareness that any victory over such evil can only ever be a measured against the loss and tragedy that is left in its wake – and that the best victory of all is to stop it before it starts.

In 2025, that feels like small comfort – but it’s enough to make Vanderbilt’s slick historical drama a worthy slice of inspiration to propel us into the fight that faces us in 2026 and beyond.

Even as the current political environment is trying to suffocate the queer community’s sexual expression, we are not staying quiet.

Dandyland.art, is a nationwide leader in celebrating erotic art and rallying against artistic and bodily censorship. This Saturday, November 15^th, Dandyland makes a return to Los Angeles at Precinct, from 2 to 8 pm, featuring local artist vendors offering erotic art, prints, clothing, books, jewelry, gifts, and more. The event, titled “Pajama Party,” will kick off Dandyland’s holiday tour with pop-ups in Chicago and New York City. Attendees are encouraged to dress up in their comfiest – or sexiest – sleepwear.

Our very own journalist, Rob Salerno, will be on hand to showcase his art, specifically his erotic Christmas cards. As an artist, he has experienced first-hand the stigma surrounding celebrating erotic male art.

“I love the Dandyland Art fair. It’s always such a great opportunity to meet other local queer artists and show off our work! I’ve personally bought a bunch of pieces from other artists at Dandyland that are all over my apartment.

As an artist, it’s also such a great way to get my art to queer shoppers. I love meeting fans of my art! It’s becoming increasingly hard to sell queer art online, as platforms like Instagram and Etsy crack down on queer themed erotic art. I just had my Etsy store shut down because they said my gay Christmas cards broke their rules, and I’m currently on my fourth Instagram account after all my previous accounts got shut down. That’s why my Instagram name is @instahatesgayart. I’m on Bluesky and Twitter as @gaydudesketches, but those platforms are less ideal for showing off art.”

The Blade also had the opportunity to chat with Patrick McNaughton, the mastermind behind Dandyland, about the organization’s mission, purpose, and power.

What was your first memorable exposure to art that got you involved in the erotic art world?

When I was young and still exploring my sexuality, the art section at the bookstore was one of the only places I found where the nude male form was shamelessly on display. The self-discoveries I made sneaking back to that section were pivotal to everything that I am as an artist and as a person. Though some content is certainly not appropriate for children, erotic art can be a beautiful mechanism for anyone—of any age—to grow more in touch with themselves.

What was the inspiration for creating Dandyland?

I was beginning to hear too many queers saying “who I am shouldn’t be about my sexuality,”—which, to me, is an obvious result of conditioning toward puritanical heteronormative standards. Our society marginalizes queers for the sex we enjoy, then rewards acceptance to those of us who degrade it. We start to believe, as a community, that something so biologically inherent as enjoying sexual pleasure should have no bearing on our understanding of our own identities. It’s bananas.

Additionally, erotic art has always occupied a bizarre “alternative” space in art culture—often perceived as declassé, tasteless, or trashy. Art is about expression—a connection between artist and experiencer that invokes an idea or a feeling. Lust, sensuality, raw carnal desire, horniness—all just as valid to me as love, tragedy, serenity, chaos, and all the other genres the “high art” scene elevates.

Dandyland.art champions the proliferation of sexuality in queer artistic expression. We promote the admiration of human bodies in all forms, the open exploration of sex and sexuality, and the celebration of erotic pleasure—especially in the interest of developing connection and community. We proudly stand against artistic and bodily censorship, we consistently challenge heteronormative standards, and we try to create a fun and approachable environment where the celebration of sexuality and sexual pleasure in all forms is highly encouraged. 

Why are Dandyland events so important, especially right now?

Clearly, there’s been a major pendulum swing in power, toward conservative views of gender, sex, and sexuality. That strikes a lot of fear in those of us that shift threatens, which is pretty much the point. Our events are safe spaces to demonstrate that sexual freedom and celebration are not as endangered as many might have us believe. We need to demonstrate that we aren’t afraid to show up for and support each other—especially those creating art that challenges oppressive power. 

Why is it so important to embrace and promote the sex part of our sexual identity?

First, I want to make clear that we are foremost promoting the open discussion of sex, and encouraging those who enjoy it to participate in whatever way they feel comfortable. But if you like sex, it’s an outstanding way to connect with others—and yourself—through pleasure. 

How can we, as a community, resist a government that wants to oppress and control our art?

1) Create more art. 

2) Support existing artists. Yes, promote their work with likes and comments online, but if you can afford it at all, subscribe to their Patreon, buy a piece of work, do what you can to help them keep the lights on while they create more art.

3) Engage with platforms that do not oppress and control our art. Spend more time scrolling Bluesky than Instagram. Do a little work to make yourself aware of where censorship is happening, and proceed thoughtfully.

4) Stand together. Literally. Get out and go where the other queer people are standing, gathering, organizing, and communing. Maybe even Dandyland!

What can we expect from this weekend’s event?

I think when people hear so much talk about sex, an event like this might sound intimidating, but it’s just a bunch of friendly people having a fun time trying to make queer erotic art more accessible and approachable. There will be over twenty artists selling originals, prints, clothing, books, jewelry, gifts, and more, with most content skewing toward the masculine. There will be an hourly art raffle, and it’s all hosted by me—so say hi! Plus, it’s a queer event, so of course there’s a theme: Pajama Party. Dress to it as comfortable or sexy as you like—or don’t, if themes aren’t your thing. There will be a clothes check available if you want to bring something to change into.

It’s super important that we all show support for local queer artists right now, so hopefully, we can also expect you!

What is your message to the queer community? 

We only stand to lose if we make our decisions out of fear and shame. Or, on a lighter note—Buy some art. Suck some dick. And have a dandy Dandyland.

dandyland: Pajama Party
Erotic Art & Gift Fair
Saturday, November 15th, 2025
2-8 PM
Precinct DTLA
357 S Broadway
Los Angeles

Affordable Art & Gifts
Hourly Art Raffles
Loose Morals

Dress to Theme Encouraged (Pajamas/Underwear/Lingerie)
Clothes Check Available
Free Admission (21+ Only)

Every popular content creator today has a hook. Whether it be indomitable wit, unyielding beauty, or a unique expertise, it’s undeniable that every influencer has some kind of talent that continues to bring their audience back for more. There are dozens of these individuals, each with their own specific set of skills — but only one is as good at making people laugh as he is at literally saving lives. 

Nurse Blake is a content creator who has gained a massive following on TikTok with his comedy skits and anecdotes from a decade-long career as an ICU nurse. His fame actually began as a way to cope; after many years working in trauma centers, he began posting online to escape the everyday stresses of his job. What began as a fun pastime has turned into an online empire, with medical professionals all over the world feeling seen by how Blake hilariously portrays the (often very gross) trials and tribulations they face daily. It’s a style of comedy that the performer recently took on the road, with the Los Angeles Blade catching up with him on his But Did You Die? tour only days before shows in Anaheim and LA. Nurse Blake opened up about the struggles of tour life and what he misses about the medical field, all while making one thing very clear: whether in a hospital or onstage, he’ll never stop being a nurse. And it’s always a nurse’s job to advocate for the people who need it most.

“I just got burned out,” said Nurse Blake, when explaining why he first started releasing videos on TikTok. “I’ve been a nurse for 11 years now, and [as a nurse] you’re so overworked…I needed an outlet to let loose and just have fun a little bit.” An outlet that, since it began in 2017, has gained Blake 1.2 million followers on Instagram and even more on TikTok. His skits detail the often ridiculous plights of modern nurses, with scenes of unruly patients and inconsiderate administrators showing your average viewer a side of the profession they wouldn’t know otherwise. 

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While he has helped educate thousands, Blake was proud to say that everything he does is always for the nurses in the audience. “I saw that [my videos] were helping other nurses and nursing students get through their day. I don’t work at a hospital anymore, so I can’t interact with patients directly — but if I can help a nurse better manage their patients with some laughter, then [I feel] I’m still in the role of helping people feel good.” This is at the core of all the performer’s work: making others feel good. It was one of the few transferable aspects between his careers; he worked tirelessly as a nurse to provide holistic care to his patients, meeting their medical needs while ensuring they felt comfortable and respected in the harsh healthcare system. Obviously, the man’s sold-out shows are a different arena than the crowded hospitals he used to inhabit, but he still feels it’s his duty to offer viewers the comfort he once gave to thousands of patients. It’s ‘holistic comedy,’ an innovation for the medium that is necessary now more than ever. 

Between his tour, his social media, and keeping up his skills as a nurse, the creator stresses that he remains licensed and always ready to practice. Nurse Blake still finds the time to speak up for his LGBTQ+ community. In a recent article with the Huffington Post, the creator shared how his experience with conversion therapy as a teenager still haunts him to this day. In discussing said article, Blake summarized his thoughts for anyone unable to read it with one sentence: “Conversion therapy kills people.” He went on to describe how this horrific ‘treatment’ has left him with indescribable trauma, countless emotional wounds that he’s only able to heal from through a supportive community and his comedy. Especially with the Supreme Court gearing up to hear a case that could reverse the ban on conversion therapy, Nurse Blake urges everyone in his audience to speak out against this heinous practice to protect those at risk of it. 

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When he’s not writing op-eds, Blake advocates for his LGBTQ+ community by simply being himself onstage. “I’ll do shows in small, rural areas with no LGBTQ+ people, but I don’t change my show. [The audience] has a great time, and then they’re exposed to…these issues that queer people face.” It’s a seamless yet extremely intentional form of advocacy, and it goes back to the fact that, beyond his titles as influencer or comedian, Blake will always be a nurse whose job is to care for those in need.

“It’s about us being not only there to give patients medications and run procedures, but also being an advocate for them and their community,” said Blake, when describing the true duty of a nurse today. “So when I’m doing [my comedy]…being a nurse, it’s [my job] to create a safe space for everybody.” It’s an immensely difficult task, especially in the United States, which continues to attack queer folks at a social and medical level. But by carving out his own niche on social platforms and then bringing that welcoming space to people across the country, Blake helps queer folks feel seen and educates those who have a direct hand in their care. 

Nurse Blake’s holistic comedy is an art form that makes people laugh while simultaneously nurturing them with every joke. It’s a sense of humor that shows a tremendous amount of care for everyone in the audience, giving them a reprieve from their stressful lives while equipping them to advocate for themselves and everyone they may encounter — what else could you expect from a nurse?

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No conversation about legendary Drag Queens is complete without discussing Gottmik and Violet Chachki. 

Audiences first met these iconic performers on RuPaul’s Drag Race; Violet sent waves throughout the fandom with her hard-fought victory during the show’s seventh installment, with her revolutionary style instantly cementing her as a truly historic ‘fashion queen’. Gottmik, who had made waves in LA for years as a makeup artist before getting cast, was a fan-favorite finalist on season 13 before returning to raise money for Trans Lifeline during All-Stars 9. Both Queens made headlines during their tenure on the show, but most of their hardcore fans know them for the jaw-dropping projects they took on afterward — often with one another. One of the most famous ‘Drag Duos’ today, whether it be hilarious podcasts or high-energy songs, these performers have remained constant collaborators amidst each other’s many individual ventures. Their careers are filled with so many legendary feats, but none are as ambitious as their latest international endeavor: The Knockout Tour. 

Gottmik made time to speak with the LA Blade during one of his rare breaks before the next stop on their tour. He dug into tour life with his best friend and the death-defying stunts that fill each show, as well as what it means to bring such unique artistry to some of the most conservative counties across the country. Gottmik spoke about their ongoing mission of using this platform to inspire others to live as their most authentic selves — all while looking completely immaculate, of course!

“The second I was on Drag Race, we started touring together…and it just clicked!” Said Gottmik, discussing how effortlessly he and Violet became best friends post-Drag Race. Fans have grown to adore their dynamic over the years, with the duo’s podcast No Gorge highlighting how each’s biting fashion sense and deep appreciation for the most niche gay slang make them such a perfect friendship match. It’s why, despite many people warning them against taking on such a big professional opportunity with a friend, it was never a question that the pair would do this tour together. “[The Knockout Tour] works because, no matter how we get there, we have the same end goal: pushing the needle forward in the Drag space, breaking down barriers, and slaying together!” 

“This is drag at an extremely high level,” Gottmik gushed when describing what fans can expect at a Knockout show. “We have multiple aerial [stunts], these crazy props that we’re climbing on, and it’s just so wild! It’s drag in a theatrical burlesque, rock and roll style that you’ve [never seen].” In many ways, this aesthetic is a perfect fusion of the pair; Violet is a premier burlesque performer specializing in aerial work, and Gottmik has always embodied a grunge-filled perfection in his trademark Drag style. These Queens are bombastic and dramatic in the best way, unabashedly showing off the unique flairs that make them some of the most distinct performers working today. It’s a pairing that inspires not only awe but a sense of effortless confidence — a confidence that Gottmik knows many of his fans need right now. 

Hateful rhetoric has steadily grown across the United States in recent years, with certain areas becoming hotbeds of the conservative discrimination that Gottmik has always faced as a transgender man (the performer uses he/him pronouns when out of Drag and she/her when in Drag). Despite this, Gottmik emphasized that it was never a question that their tour would stop in these areas — in fact, they made a point to. “We are two queer entertainers with a platform, and it’s important that we visit [those places] and share our stories and inspire people in towns who don’t get to see shows like this…to inspire them to be themselves.” 

Gottmik is especially passionate about using his platform for good because he knows how much of his large fanbase is young trans kids, just like he once was. “The ones who are growing up and figuring themselves out, and then are looking at their TVs and [seeing] their government call them crazy…it’s important for me to use my platform to show them [representation] that I didn’t get to see in the media.” He clarified that, yes, audiences are going to come to the show and see a punk rock-and-roll Goddess oozing confidence onstage — but being that person didn’t come easy. It took years of self-discovery for Gottmik to recognize his transgender identity, and it was the love and support of a found queer family that helped him become the creative powerhouse audiences know him as now. Each Knockout Tour show brings audiences into this intimate journey, showcasing the incredible authenticity that Gottmik has spent years developing while reminding attendees that this is all possible in their own lives.

Throughout the interview, Gottmik painted a riveting image of The Knockout Tour — the shows themselves, and the queer community who made it all possible. He detailed the shocking stunts fans will see onstage, the incredible music he and Violet perform each show, and the years of hard work that created these two performers that so many fans love. At the root of it all, though, is representation.

A representation of not only Violet and Gottmik’s many talents, though of course these Queens’ immense expertise is the bedrock of this entire tour. But the vital image of two queer people who refuse to dull themselves just because others said they should. Of a transgender artist who stands proudly in the face of discrimination and who uses his art to inspire others to do the same. “We’re [showing] the whole world that we’re not going anywhere, and you can’t change us.” Explained Gottmik, as the interview came to an end. “We create an amazing queer safe space that is really special for so many people…and it’s just really cool that [we get] to create that space for everyone every [show].” It’s a kind of space that’s hard to come by nowadays. And it’s one that Gottmik and Violet Chachki are determined to bring to thousands of queer artists just like them internationally with this tour.

Click here for information about The Knockout Tour

When I log onto Zoom to speak with Ira Sachs (Passages, Little Men), a queer filmmaker who has been immersed in New York’s independent film scene since 1989, he’s having a conversation with one of his kids (offscreen) about taking his favorite bag for trick-or-treating. “If you won’t lose it, you can take it. It’s hard to find. Just don’t lose it!” Sachs says.

It’s a rare glimpse into the active life of both an artist and a father, which I can’t help but keep thinking about when we begin talking about Peter Hujar’s Day — Sachs’ intimate new film that paints a portrait of Peter Hujar (Ben Whishaw), a real-life artist who died of AIDS in 1987, just through a conversation with his friend, Linda Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall). It’s in everyday discussions about everything from Halloween bags to the morning smell of coffee that we can sometimes find the most connection.

Over the course of 24 hours, Sachs paints a vivid portrait of Hujar’s daily struggles to make money as an artist, his insecurities about capturing portraits of Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs, and the friendships with people like Linda that kept him afloat. Based on the real transcript of Rosenkrantz’s and Hujar’s conversation, which was recorded on Dec. 18, 1974, the film is both a celebration of Hujar’s life and an homage to the artists who died of AIDS.

Ahead of the theatrical release of Peter Hujar’s Day, The Blade had the opportunity to speak with Sachs about honoring the New York-based artists of the ‘70s and ‘80s who were immersed in queer culture, reuniting with his Passages star Ben Whishaw, and why community is so fundamentally important to the LGBTQ+ community. This interview has been edited and condensed.

Obviously, this is a very New York movie, and we’re here talking for The Los Angeles Blade. But I love how specific this film is to New York. To start off, I’ve read about how you discovered this conversation. How did the form of this conversation inform what you ultimately wanted to portray about Peter Hujar as an artistic figure?

Well, I think I almost didn’t know the answer to that until the film was done. I realized what it does very well, thanks to Peter’s storytelling, is that it’s a window into the truth of how hard it is to make art. And I think the struggle that he goes through around the quality, the success or failure of his photograph of Allen Ginsberg is, for me, both very moving and also very comforting. Every time I make art, it seems impossible, and I feel like, “Oh, it’s hard for Peter Hujar too.” And I feel that gives me a kind of strength and confidence. And I will say that I have often looked to the artists of the East Village, particularly queer, gay artists of the ‘70s and ‘80s, as an extraordinary inspiration — many and most we lost to AIDS. But there was a kind of radical individuality during that time, and that was encouraged in art making, which I feel is beautiful and necessary.

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Here, you are reuniting with Ben Whishaw, whom I loved in Passages. I’d love to hear about your collaboration specifically with him between these two films, and what made you see him as the leading man for Peter Hujar.

Well, I read the book when I was working with Ben on Passages, and it was a great and wonderful excuse to keep working with Ben Whishaw. And I also knew that Ben had an interest in queer history and queer creative life that paralleled my own. It’s something we talk about a lot. We want to be adventurers like our heroes. He also looks a little bit like Peter, and it turns out he has a self-portrait of Peter on his wall, which I didn’t know. So all stars aligned, and we got to make this film.

This is your first time working with Rebecca Hall, and I know she’s going to be in your next film, the musical The Man I Love with Rami Malek. You’ve had actors you’ve returned to work with throughout your career, so I’d love to hear about some of the most fruitful aspects of these collaborations.

Well, Rebecca has a whiff of genius. She’s so fine in her work. She’s an actor who, even in silence, is also a writer. She tells stories and subtext without underlining anything. So it seemed exhilarating to collaborate with her. Specifically, I’d seen her in a 2016 movie called Christine, which I thought she was so brilliant. And also with Ben and Rebecca, they’re comfortable with risking failure. I think that is so generative — not to be looking at outcome, but to be embracing process.

I absolutely agree. And as you mentioned earlier, you are depicting New York at a very specific time in the ‘70s, before the AIDS epidemic hit. You’re someone who’s lived in New York and started your film career there. Obviously, it takes place in an apartment, but we do get to hear the sounds of New York; it still paints a very specific portrait and texture of this city.

It was important to bring the sound of a city into the movie, and it also became part of the drama. Whether it be a jackhammer or a siren or, at certain moments, quiet. Specifically, the sounds of prostitutes on a street corner, which are the last image described by Hujar when he talks about his day: the sex workers below his window. To me, that’s a very city sound and a city image. It was one of the ones that made me love the text and love the book. It’s this quiet in the middle of the night when you hear somebody else’s drama between the glass of your apartment.

There are also moments where you decide to intercut beats with classical music, which I thought was really effective. Could you speak to that?

Well, I wanted the film to be both real and theatrical at the same time. The music ruptures an idea of the everyday. It brings the film to a heightened level of emotion and drama. From the beginning of the film, I also wanted to be explicit that this was, in itself, a creative act. Making the film was like taking a photograph. It was experimental, it was uncertain, it was exploratory, and, hopefully, it was a form of portraiture — both of Hujar, but also of this friendship between Peter and his friend Linda, which seems really personal. My relationship to certain women in my life is conveyed through the love that you see between Peter and Linda, and between Ben and Rebecca.

For me, one of the real emotional anchors of this film is this universal feeling that we’re wasting our time in the day, or if you were to look at everything you do in any given day, there’s the fear that you haven’t accomplished enough. But I really love the structure of this film and that you’re inviting us to sit in the mundane, little moments. Could you speak to what you wanted to convey in your relationship to time in the film?

There is an evocation throughout the film that goes unspoken to the loss of Hujar and so many others to AIDS. That is really the unspoken emotion in the film, which is the preciousness of someone like Peter. Something about Peter is quite extraordinary, partly because he’s such a good artist. In certain ways, I tried not to think about Hujar’s photographs, but they were in me. And similarly, I tried not to think consciously about losing Peter; 13 years later, he was dead. But it was really in me when I made the film, and the fairness of that loss. There is an image of these steel planks in the Hudson River, which are remnants of the piers. I don’t know if that comes through to anyone, but something is missing in this shot of the river, and I think in this city, there’s a lot that’s missing.

That makes me want to re-watch the film to pick up more on that.

I made a film called Last Address, an eight-minute film. It’s online, it’s probably my most seen film. It’s about a group of New York artists who died of AIDS, and I shot the houses where they lived at the time of their death. Someone said to me today that it seemed like Hujar is the inverse because Last Address has no biographical information except where people lived and when they died. And this is now actually all biographical information on a certain day. And that film is also structured artificially in the course of the day. It begins at Keith Haring’s house early in the morning when you hear birds and trucks delivering milk, and then it ends at Times Square, at the house of Reza Abdoh, who was an Iranian theater director who died of AIDS. Similarly, I constructed a false day, a cinematic day.

On that note, I’m not somebody who went into this film knowing too much about Peter Hujar. I saw this at AFI Fest, and I was struck by some of the conversations that people were having as they left the theater, being interested in wanting to learn more about him and discover his work first-hand. How do you see this film as an opportunity for up-and-coming queer generations to discover Peter Hujar as an artist?

That’s interesting. I will say that it was not my intention, but it’s pleasurable to hear that that’s the case. There’s something about discovering an artist so singular and so powerfully confident within what could be a marginalized space that is extraordinarily generative to younger artists. It can be. Peter’s attention to the people around him, the queer people around him, the gay people around him, and the trans people around him is so rigorous and so loving, and also so counter to mainstream and global culture. The film is really about the resistance of globalization, and to the extent that that’s what Peter’s work does. It says the local is where you find meaning. And that’s anti-capitalist.

This film premiered at Sundance back in January, and I know you’ve had many films premiere there in the past. Could you speak to the state of the film industry because, as we’re seeing, there are not as many distribution deals coming out of Sundance? But this film was one that was really able to find its audience, getting picked up by Sideshow and Janus Films.

It’s never easy to work outside the dominant system. We are struggling with the dearth of exhibition spaces. I guess we’re struggling with an ecosystem that isn’t fertile, and so sustainability becomes very difficult for artists, when there’s not, in each stage — including festivals — the energy, whether that be economic or artistic, that might generate more and more work. But I don’t want to be nostalgic. There’s an attempt to understand that we have lost things; we lost a generation of artists to AIDS. We lost the kind of local nature of an artistic community that we had in the East Village in the ‘70s and ‘80s. We lost places like The Bar, which was on the corner of Second Avenue and Second Street. On Second Avenue and Fourth Street, there was a local watering hole where people could find each other on a daily basis and share their stories. And so, in a way, the movie is an encouragement for conversation and to spend time with people. In doing so, we can gather strength as artists and as a community, as queer people.

I love that. I’m not in New York, but I think finding a real sense of community is something I’ve personally struggled with as a queer person. That’s just hard to find in everyday life. So I felt this film was, as you said, a reminder of the power of community and conversation.

It’s so necessary, and I think particularly as people who are making creative work, you need something that is a ballast against one’s doubt. And companionship can be that.

The film will have a U.S. theatrical release in November.