Last week’s grab of nine Tony nominations for the new Broadway revival of “The Rocky Horror Show” – coming in the midst of the ongoing 50th anniversary of the cult-classic movie version – seems like a great excuse to look back at a phenomenon that’s kept us “doing the Time Warp” for decades.

It’s a big history, so instead of attempting a definitive conclusion about why it matters, I’ll just offer my personal memories and thoughts; maybe you’ll be inspired to revisit your own.

First, the facts: Richard O’Brien’s campy glam-rock musical became a London stage hit in 1973; that success continued with a run at Los Angeles’s Roxy Theatre in 1974, and a Broadway opening was slated for early 1975. In the break between, the movie was filmed, timed to ride the presumed success of the New York premiere and become a mega-hit – but it didn’t happen that way. The Broadway show closed after a mere handful of performances, and the movie disappeared from theaters almost as soon as it was released.

This, however, was in the mid-1970s, when “cult movies” had become a whole countercultural “scene,” and the film’s distributor (20th Century Fox) found a way to give “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” another chance at life. It hit the midnight circuit in 1976, and everybody knows what happened after that.

When all of this was happening, I was still a pre-teen in Phoenix, and a sheltered one at that. It wasn’t until 1978 – the summer before I started high school – that it entered my world. Already a movie fanatic (yes, even then), I had discovered a local treasure called the Sombrero Playhouse, a former live theater converted into an “art house” cinema; my parents would take me there and drop me off alone (hey, it was 1978) for a double feature. I remember that place and time as pure heaven.

It was there that “Rocky Horror” found me. The Sombrero, like so many similar venues across the country, made most of its profits from the midnight shows, and “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” was the star attraction. I saw the posters, watched the previews, got my first peeks at Tim Curry’s Frank, Peter Hinton’s Rocky, and all the rest of the movie’s alluringly “freaky” cast; when I came out of the theater after whatever I had watched, I would see the fans lining up outside for the midnight show. I could see their weird costumes, and smell the aroma I already knew was weed, and I knew this was something I should not want to have any part of – and yet, I absolutely did.

After I started high school and found my “tribe” with the “theater kids,” I was invited by a group of them – all older teenagers – to go and see it. I had to ask my parents’ permission, which (amazingly) they granted; they even let me ride with the rest of the “gang” in our friend’s van – with carpeted interior, of course – despite what I could see were their obvious misgivings about the whole situation.

It would be over-dramatic to say that night changed my life, but it would not be wrong, either. I was amazed by the atmosphere: the pre-movie floor show, the freewheeling party vibe, the comments shouted at the screen on cue, the occasional clatter of empty liquor bottles falling under a seat somewhere, and that same familiar smell, which delivered what, in retrospect, I now know was a serious contact high. 

As for the movie, I had already been exposed to enough “R” rated fare (the Sombrero never asked for ID) to keep me from being shocked, and the gender-bent aesthetic seemed merely a burlesque to me. I was savvy enough to see the spoof, to laugh at the lampooning of stodgy 1950s values under the guise of a retro-schlock parody of old-school movie tropes; I “got it” in that sense – but there was so much about it that I wasn’t ready to fully understand. Because of that, I enjoyed the experience more than I enjoyed the film itself.

I’m not sure how many times I saw “Rocky Horror” over the next few years, but my tally wasn’t high; I drifted to a different friend group, became more active in theater, and had little time for midnight movies in my busy life. I was never in a floor show and rarely yelled back at the screen (though I did throw a roll of toilet paper once), and I didn’t dress in costume. Even so, I went back to it periodically before the Sombrero closed permanently in 1982, and as I gradually learned to embrace my own “weirdness,” I came to connect with the weirdness that had always been calling me from within the movie. Each time I watched it, I did so through different eyes, and they saw things I had never seen before.

That process has continued throughout my life. I’ve frequently revisited “Rocky” via home media (in all its iterations) and special screenings over the years, and the revelations keep coming: the visual artistry of director Jim Sharman’s treatment; the dazzling production design incorporating nods to iconic art and fashion that I could only recognize as my own knowledge of queer culture expanded; the incomparable slyness of Tim Curry’s unsubtle yet joyously authentic performance; the fine-tuned perfection of Richard O’Brien’s ear-worm of a song score. The excellence of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” revealed itself in new layers with every viewing.

There were also more intimate realizations: how Janet was always a slut and Brad was always closeted (I related to both), and how Frank’s seduction becomes the path to sexual liberation for them both; how Rocky was the “Über-Hustler,” following his uncontrolled libido into exploitation as a sex object while only desiring safety and comfort (I related to him, too), and how the “domestics” were driven to betray their master by his own diva complex (I could definitely relate to both sides of that equation). How Frank-N-Furter, like the tragic Greek heroes that still echo in the stories we tell about ourselves, is undone by hubris – and anybody who can’t relate to that has probably not lived long enough, yet.

The last time I watched (in preparation for writing this), I made another realization: like all great works of art, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” is a mirror, and what we see there reflects who we are when we gaze into it. It’s a purely individual interaction, but when Frank finally delivers his ultimate message – “Don’t dream it, be it” – it becomes universal. Whoever you are, whoever you want to be, and whatever you must let go of to get there, you deserve to make it happen – no matter how hard the no-neck criminologists and Nazi-esque Dr. Scotts of the world try to discourage you.

It’s a simple message – obvious, even – but it’s one for which the timing is never wrong; and for the generations of queer fans that have been empowered by “The Rocky Horror Picture Show,” it probably feels more right than ever.

Jason Collins, the first openly gay man to actively play for a major professional sports team, died on Tuesday after a battle with brain cancer. He was 47.

The California native had briefly played for the Washington Wizards in 2013 before coming out in a Sports Illustrated op-ed.

Collins in 2014 became the first openly gay man to play in a game for a major American professional sports league when he played 11 minutes during a Brooklyn Nets game. He wore jersey number 98 in honor of Matthew Shepard, a gay college student murdered outside of Laramie, Wyo., in 1998.

Collins told the Washington Blade in 2014 that his life was “exponentially better” since he came out. Collins the same year retired from the National Basketball Association after 13 seasons.

Collins married his husband, Brunson Green, in May 2025.

The NBA last September announced Collins had begun treatment for a brain tumor. Collins on Dec. 11, 2025, announced he had Stage 4 glioblastoma.

“We are heartbroken to share that Jason Collins, our beloved husband, son, brother and uncle, has died after a valiant fight with glioblastoma,” said Collins’s family in a statement the NBA released. “Jason changed lives in unexpected ways and was an inspiration to all who knew him and to those who admired him from afar.  We are grateful for the outpouring of love and prayers over the past eight months and for the exceptional medical care Jason received from his doctors and nurses. Our family will miss him dearly.”

NBA Commissioner Adam Silver said Collins’s “impact and influence extended far beyond basketball as he helped make the NBA, WNBA, and larger sports community more inclusive and welcoming for future generations.”  

“He exemplified outstanding leadership and professionalism throughout his 13-year NBA career and in his dedicated work as an NBA Cares Ambassador,” said Silver. “Jason will be remembered not only for breaking barriers, but also for the kindness and humanity that defined his life and touched so many others.”

“To call Jason Collins a groundbreaking figure for our community is simply inadequate. We truly lost a giant today,” added Human Rights Campaign President Kelley Robinson in a statement. “He came out as gay — while still playing — at a time when men’s athletes simply did not do that. But as he powerfully demonstrated in his final years in the league and his post-NBA career, stepping forward as he did boldly changed the conversation.”

“He was and will always be a legend for the LGBTQ+ community, and we are heartbroken to hear of his passing at the young age of 47,” she said. “Our hearts go out to his family and loved ones. We will keep fighting on in his honor until the day everyone can be who they are on their terms.”

The Los Angeles Blade is honored to join forces with Asian Americans Advancing Justice (AJSOCAL) and Okaeri (a program of Little Tokyo Service Center) to celebrate both AAPI Heritage Month and to kick off Pride, hosted at The Abbey on Tuesday, May 19th at 6:30 pm. The evening will feature West Hollywood Vice Mayor Danny Hang and actor Nhut Le from HBO Max’s hit show, Peacemaker.

This event, free to the public, is part of Los Angeles Blade’s commitment to spotlight and support the efforts of the the non-profits who provide resources to other minority groups within the queer community. This past year, the Blade has had the privilege to build relationships with both AJSOCAL and Okaeri, highlighting the stories of the organizations’ history, staff leaders, and clients.

AJSOCAL is the leading civil rights advocate for the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community. Their services are open to individuals of all races and ethnicities, without restriction. The organization combats discrimination, provides free legal services and workshops across Southern California for low-income community members and anyone in need, and drives policy change from the local to national level. AAPI Queer Joy is AJSOCAL’s initiative to become more inclusive and representative of the AAPI community by recognizing the intersectionality of the AAPI and LGBTQ+ communities. In partnership with a coalition of Queer Trans Asian Pacific Islander (QTAPI)-serving organizations across California, they identify and highlight the specific needs of the QTAPI community. Based on the coalition’s guidance, AJSOCAL advocates for inclusive policies that empower the QTAPI community and allow all to thrive.

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Jeffrey Deguia, AJSOCAL’s LA Regional Policy Advocate, commented to the Blade about the joint event, “I’m excited to be celebrating our beautifully diverse AAPI LGBTQ+ (or queer, trans API or QTAPI) community with the LA Blade and one of my favorite community partners, Okaeri at this year’s AAPI Heritage Month & Pride Month happy hour! Being proudly QTAPI means I’m celebrating every part myself, which means I’m celebrating my Filipino heritage and my resilient queer and trans community. Tonight is a reminder that we don’t have to choose one, and that being fully authentic in both of these identities is what Pride is all about.”

Okaeri is a community-driven project of Little Tokyo Service Center. Its mission is to create visibility, compassionate spaces, and transformation for LGBTQ+ Japanese Americans (Nikkei) and their families by sharing their stories and providing culturally-rooted support, education, community-building, and advocacy. They envision a safe, loving, and accepting world for LGBTQ+ Nikkei and their families where all identities are celebrated, respected, and embraced. The organization started out in 2013, when Marsha Aizumi, the Japanese American mother of a transgender son, wondered why there were no resources for LGBTQ+ Nikkei. She organized the “Okaeri: A Nikkei LGBTQ Gathering” conference, gathering together over 200 attendees in its debut. Now, Okaeri provides programs and community services to meet the needs of the Nikkei LGBTQ+ community.

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Matthew Yonemura, Okaeri’s Assistant Program Director, shared, “Okaeri is so grateful for the collaboration we have with our fellow Queer Trans Asian Pacific Islander (QTAPI) community members. Okaeri has experienced so much change over the last couple of years, and it became increasingly difficult in 2024 and 2025 to hold in-person events. Being able to collaborate with AJSOCAL for happy hours like this is so important in Okaeri’s effort to be in the community. Okaeri means “welcome home” in Japanese, and gatherings like this are a way to welcome new members into the Okaeri community home.”

The evening will be a fun, casual happy hour open to all. The Blade will be on hand with our latest print issue, dedicated to AAPI Heritage Month. Vice Mayor Danny Hang will be in attendance to make a few remarks and help kick off the evening. As an added bonus, actor Nhut Le, who has become a runaway hit personality from HBO Max’s Peacemaker for the past two seasons, will join the festivities. Le has had the opportunity to infuse his character, Judomaster, with elements from his own queer and Vietnamese identity.

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Le wrote to the Blade, “It’s an interesting intersectionality, straddling both marginalized groups. I’ve encountered forms of discrimination in both, I’m too gay to be a good representation for the AAPI community or I’m too Asian and they don’t want tokenism or fetishism. It’s crucial that representation spans the whole gamut because even if one person somewhere feels seen and a little less alone and that their life is worth living, then it’s important.”

Come join the Blade, AJSOCAL, Okaeri, and Le at The Abbey on Tuesday, May 19th, from 6:30 to 8:30 pm. For more information, email the LA Blade publisher at [email protected].

Amielynn Abellera grew up with a nurse practitioner mother and a doctor father, so perhaps she was always destined to appear in a show like The Pitt. Looking at popular media as a Filipino child, though, she never saw “authentic representation” when watching shows about healthcare workers.

“If I did have representation, I would have been more curious and more celebratory, and want to investigate more and ask [my parents] questions,” she tells The Blade. “It’s never too late, and now that there is representation, it’s really making waves across the Filipino and Filipino-American community to initiate conversations.”

Acting on HBO Max’s The Pitt, as she has since the very first episode, carries a deeper meaning for Abellera, who plays the steady and empathetic Nurse Perlah. The second season once again follows a full 15-hour shift in the ER, this time taking place on the Fourth of July.

Abellera reflects on Perlah’s journey: “As a nurse, she is really good at her job, she’s really calm and composed and confident. She knows how to protect herself in such a challenging career. That has been part of how she’s able to get through it. In this season, on this particular day, she hits some challenges, and we start to see a little bit of that armor crack — just a tiny bit.”

It’s been a breakthrough role for Abellera, who previously appeared in episodes of The Cleaning Lady, Bosch: Legacy, and NCIS. The unique filming style of The Pitt, where every episode is synchronized with one hour in the hospital, has given Abellera a new experience altogether: “It feels very sporadic, very panicked, and very immediate.”

“It does feel like I’m waking up at five in the morning, starting a shift, and doing a 12-hour day. Sometimes, the reality mixed with the not-reality and the pretend can sort of meld together,” she says, while adding with a laugh, “I’m not a nurse, I’m nowhere near anything being a healthcare worker, of course, but sometimes you end up thinking, ‘I can actually put an IV in!’”

As she looks back on the season at large, one episode that stands out to her is Episode 3 (titled 9:00 A.M.), which incorporated the 2018 Tree of Life synagogue shooting that took place in Pittsburgh, where the show is also located. In a poignant moment, a Jewish patient named Yana (played by Irina Dubova) connects with Perlah, who wears a hijab.

“Quite honestly, I didn’t know so much about the shooting until we started working,” she says. “I really loved how simple the scene was, in terms of it being two people just connecting and caring for each other in that moment, and also acknowledging this bigger thing. It took both Yana and Perlah by surprise — the feelings that came up for them. I remember even filming it; it took both of us by surprise.”

When I ask about bringing both Filipino and queer representation to the show, Abellera says “I know I sound like a broken record. But I’m so proud, and it’s such an honor to be able to represent the Filipino community as healthcare workers. It’s such a big part of Filipino history and my personal history.”

On the show, she’s also found solidarity with Isa Briones and Kristin Villanueva. “Something I like about the three of us is we’re three different dimensions of Filipino,” she says.

Beyond the community she’s cultivated with her cast on-set, The Pitt has been celebrated across the entire industry, most recently winning the ensemble in a drama series prize at the Actor Awards and, of course, the Emmy award for best drama series. The Actor Award recognition was especially notable since it brought the main cast together on stage. With Season 3 already in the works, one can only imagine how many more awards the show will nab.

“I don’t think anybody knew that we were so hungry for this type of going back to how television used to be,” Abellera says, noting the 15-episode order for Season 2. “It’s taken all demographics by surprise.”

JORDY has never been one to shy away from a feeling authentic/messy/euphoric, but lately, he’s been leaning into something a touch more mischievous… the art of letting go. With “DUMB,” the GLAAD and Queerties-nominated pop auteur trades overthinking for overstimulation, bottling up that kind of night where the group chat becomes a glitter-glazed dance floor and emotional clarity is gloriously replaced with invited chaos. It’s a track that winks as much as it confesses, proving that even in his most carefree moments, JORDY’s tongue is still razor-sharp.

As he steps into a new era with his forthcoming album In Retrospect, JORDY sounds both freer and more self-assured than ever. With this new album, JORDY finds himself less concerned with chasing validation and more interested in capturing the full spectrum of being alive, from introspection to intoxication (emotional or otherwise). “DUMB” might sparkle on the surface, but underneath, it carries a self-aware pulse. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is stop trying so damn hard.

“DUMB” playfully entertains the idea of escapism. What was your inspiration to play with this particular theme?

I honestly was getting emotionally exhausted from writing songs on my new record that were particularly vulnerable…I needed to write a song that simply felt FUN. Like a night out. A break from reality. I got together with my best friends and did just that. 

The title comes across as tongue-in-cheek, but the song itself is emotionally complex. How did you strike that balance between humor and vulnerability?

During the creation of this song, it reminded me that we all need to just forget everything sometimes. While “DUMB” is an upbeat song, I hope it reminds listeners to take a breather and live in the present.

What was the creative process like in the studio for you when creating this track?

We honestly had the best time that day. Again, I wrote this song with my best friends. There are no limits and no rules with us. We were laughing, dancing, and eating yummy snacks. Maybe some glasses of wine. It felt like a sleepover, and I think you can feel that in the track.

How do you think your fans will relate to the theme of not taking things too seriously?

I think it’s what people NEED right now. There’s a lot of heaviness around us constantly, especially within the queer community. It’s my job to speak on those things, but also to create music that allows us to escape. We deserve those moments of happiness and euphoria. And I want to provide that.

Looking back at your breakout with “Just Friends,” how do you feel your sound and storytelling have evolved leading into this new era?

Oh my goodness – I was in such a different place back then. When I wrote that song, I was desperate for a boyfriend; someone to validate my worth. Now, being in my 30s, my priorities have shifted immensely. I am so much more in love with my own company than I was before. And I’m proud of myself for that. I really think you can hear that too in this new era.

Your projects, like BOY and SEX WITH MYSELF, each had solid identities. Where does “DUMB” sit in the larger arc of your artistic journey?

It’s a part of my next album, In Retrospect. This album means so much to me. It’s my turning 30 album. I think BOY represented me coming into my adulthood, SEX WITH MYSELF felt like a sexual liberation, and now this new record feels like the more mature and experienced version of myself. It’s exactly where I’m at right now. 

You’ve amassed a huge global audience. Does that ever influence the way you approach writing, or do you try to stay focused inward?

I want to give my fans what they want, but I think the more I feel connected to something the more they will. I try to focus on what feels good to me, knowing that it will most likely feel good to the fans. I want all of my songs to be an honest and authentic version of what I am going through. 

Your live performances are high-energy yet personal. How do you envision DUMB translating on stage?

It’s going to be epic. Absolutely EPIC. I can’t wait to premiere it at Mighty Hoopla Festival in London, May 31st!

You’ve also performed at Pride events and on national television. How have these experiences impacted your art?

It’s my favorite part of what I do. It’s the time we get to come together as a community and shower each other with love. It’s one thing to see people’s comments online, but when we all get to dance together, it’s a completely different experience. It makes it all feel real.

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How has it felt receiving recognition from Billboard and Rolling Stone (pretty major, let’s be real)?

I feel incredibly honored to have ever been recognized by publications like Billboard and Rolling Stone. As a gay man, it’s so important for the media to lift up queer artists like myself. There are so many incredible queer musicians who deserve the visibility, so it’s very, very impactful when the big companies promote queer art.

What does “pushing pop boundaries” mean to you at this moment in your career?

I think as a queer person, being completely authentic and honest in my music means I’m pushing boundaries. These are the perspectives that a lot of the music industry actively tries to shut down and reject. Instead of conforming, I want to be loud with my truth.

Without giving too much away, how did you go about exploring and translating themes and songs to form your upcoming album In Retrospect?

It started by getting out of a very toxic relationship. I was angry and upset for a long time, and the songs reflected that, but the further away I got from that relationship, the more I was able to reflect. I felt motivated to better myself. I feel like letting go of that relationship allowed me to let go of other things, too. Instead of guilting myself for staying in something toxic for too long, I choose to pat myself on the back for the courage it took for me to leave. 

With the assumption that the title In Retrospect suggests reflection, what were you looking back on while creating this project?

I am not in my 20s anymore, and my priorities have changed. This album is truly a reflection of that and where I’m at mentally at this moment. I look back on that time with zero regrets. 

As you enter this next phase of your career, what do you hope your audience takes away from your music, performances, and art as a whole?

I just always want my listeners to feel heard and understood, and safe and loved. It’s easy to bury your feelings, so I like to create spaces for us to feel those feelings together. So we can support each other through it. And of course, I want them to dance the night away and have the best time. 

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Chanel Santini has crossed over to being a DJ, performing at clubs all over the country. Now known as Santini, they will be making music and hyping the pool party, DJ-ing at XBIZ, the conference for adult creators and digital players, in Miami.

Taking place on Monday May 11 to Wednesday May 13, the event honors the most charismatic personalities and creative artists in entertainment.

“I am honestly so excited–getting to DJ in Miami Beach is literally a DJ’s dream!” Santini told the Los Angeles Blade. 

“I thought it would be a good opportunity because I haven’t been around my industry peers in a long time. It’s a great event to network and show off the new me!” said Santini.

While Santini is unsure what music they will be playing, they want everyone to have a good time. “My goal is to ignite the dance floor and play great music that everyone will vibe to. My sound includes house music, bass house, tech house, and I always like to throw a little bit of hip-hop in my sets.” 

Santini loves how DJ-ing brings people together. 

“Music really ignites us all! It is so universal, no matter what language you speak. I think it’s the best high in the world when you play a banger track, and everybody on the dance floor screams loudly. You can’t describe that feeling until you’re up there on that stage.”

 Santini describes DJs as the “modern rock stars” in today’s world. 

“I always feel like such a superstar when I’m up on that stage. The best feeling is after my set when I have people come up to me and say, ‘Thank you for sharing that amazing music.’ That’s how you know that you’re a good DJ- I love when I get those types of compliments!”

While sometimes it’s hard to please everyone’s musical tastes, Santini endeavors to try! “You just have to go out there and give it your all and be the best DJ that you can be,” he noted.

Santini, who had previously identified as trans, recently decided to transition back to being gender fluid.

“It’s definitely been a journey, but I’m definitely happier in my own skin now than I was. I don’t go by he/him pronouns. I don’t go by they/them either. I guess I just really don’t have a preference. Whatever you see me as is your opinion. I’ve learned over the years that I’m not trying to be one specific thing. I’m just Santini. I’m just me.” 

Santini acknowledged they felt respected more when dressed as a woman.

“I think it’s just because femininity runs the world. When I started to de-transition, I felt like I had to just be a boy all the time. But I’ve realized over the years that I don’t need to stick to one specific thing. I am always gonna be feminine, and that’s OK.”

Recently, Santini has been embracing their feminine side more.

“I definitely feel more comfortable in female presentation, and more powerful when I’m on stage dressed as Chanel. I love DJ-ing in drag because there are so many straight male DJs in the world. It’s almost like a superhero when he puts on his cape! I think it makes me confident and stand out more as an artist.” 

And because Santini loves makeup and fashion, they can incorporate that into their sets. “I’m not just bringing you good vibes and good music. I’m bringing you a show/ production!”

Santini is already working on big plans for the future.

“I’m opening up for a huge Pride block party in my hometown, Albuquerque, New Mexico, on June 12 and 13.  It’s a two day festival and I’m super excited for this opportunity. I’m even hiring backup dancers & a choreographer.”

Santini plans to go “all out” for this show. 

“It’s gonna be the biggest crowd that I’ve ever played for,” Santini enthused. “I’m putting my heart and soul into this performance, especially because it’s Pride in my hometown, and that means so much to me. I know the younger me would be so proud.”

Santini remembers going to Pride when they were younger and telling themself they couldn’t wait to be up on that stage.

“I’m truly living my dream right now, and I’m so excited for the future. The last 10 years of being in the adult entertainment business have been great and have given me major success. But I always knew that I didn’t want to be in this industry for long.”

Santini acknowledged that, in the recent past, it was a struggle.

“I’ve been trying to find myself and figure out what I wanna do next with my life. Now that I’ve found this passion for DJ-ing, it makes me want to go far in this business.”

In addition to being a DJ/artist, Santini is starting college next semester. 

“I’m gonna get my degree in audio engineering,” Santini enthused. “I can’t wait to start producing my own tracks. I especially can’t wait till the day I’m headlining a major festival! I know with a little bit of patience and hard work that I can get there! I just have to continue believing in myself.”

Santini wanted to thank all of their fans for their support. “Truly, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be able to fund my art in the way that I have. I’m truly grateful. And I’m excited for the future!”

As the ever-fashionable Glenn Close walked out in front of the TCL Chinese Theatre sporting a pair of circular shades, sitting down in a chair to block out the sun from her view, she looked a lot like Norma Desmond, the character she brought new dimensions to while starring in Sunset Boulevard on Broadway.

Unlike the famous character she played that lost touch with reality decades after finding success as an actor, Close is one of the rare actors to continue finding success decades after achieving stardom. The eight-time Oscar nominee, who landed her first nomination back in 1983 for The World According to Garp, was surrounded by her family, including her granddaughter, and a very well-behaved white dog that accompanied her on stage. Many of her close collaborators were also in attendance, including Melissa McCarthy and Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping director Frances Lawrence.

The crowd, which included select press and TCM passholders, hung on Close’s words as she reflected on the kind of career most aspiring actors dream of. This was the kind of event the TCM Classic Film Festival does best — not just the yearly Hand & Footprint Ceremony where stars get their hands and feet imprinted by the TCL Chinese Theatre, but the daily programming that connects passionate film fans with the female icons they grew up watching and idolizing. It was a true celebration of both past and present. Where else can classic movie fans not only see an icon like Close receive their dues, but share that moment with the actor’s loved ones?

Close’s ceremony was just the beginning of the action. The festival also gave attendees the chance to hear Carol Burnett and Barbara Hershey speak in dedicated one-hour Q&As; Faye Dunaway, Laura Dern, Sharon Stone, Julia Sweeney, Lorna Luft and Lesley Ann Warren all presented different screenings throughout the four-day festival in Los Angeles (read The Blade’s coverage of Warren’s talk before Victor/Victoria here), while Close herself presented a screening of 1988’s Dangerous Liaisons.

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The line just to get into Burnett’s conversation was the longest I saw at this year’s festival, quite literally spiraling around the lobby of the historic Roosevelt Hotel to the point where people couldn’t locate where it even ended. The crowd immediately took to their knees once Burnett walked into the room. In a conversation with TCM host Ben Mankiewicz, the seven-time Emmy winner looked back on the origins of her TV career and the women who mentored her.

Burnett would go on to make history as the first woman to host a variety show with The Carol Burnett Show, which ran on CBS from 1967 to 1978. One of the most surprising bits of her conversation was her freeing experience working with studio executives.

“When we got our show, [William S. Paley] said to us, ‘You’re the artist, I’m the businessman. You do what I do, I’ll do what I do. Go do your thing. If it’s not working, I’ll be in touch,’” Burnett recalled. “We never had a sponsor bothering us, or the network bothering us,” adding that the writers’ room was free of outside influence. In today’s media landscape, such a story is unheard of.

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Beyond these incredible stories shared by beloved actors, the festival was also an opportunity for different generations to connect through their shared love of film. As a young queer person myself, I’ve noticed how TCM can sometimes be unfairly labeled as a network solely for older people. While the festival’s attendees certainly skew older, the wide variety of female stars drew in multiple different generations; from the women who grew up on Burnett’s variety show in the ‘60s and the ‘70s, to today’s young audiences — mainly gay men! — who fell in love with Laura Dern through more recent hits like Big Little Lies and Marriage Story.

That’s part of what makes the festival so wonderful: the opportunity to connect with all different kinds of people while waiting in line for screenings and panels, and reflecting on how everyone came across a piece of media at a different point in their life. As a queer person, many of these actors resonate with me in a completely different way than they might for older women who grew up seeing a female comedian like Burnett pave the way for more representation.

The opportunity to see living legends in person hits even harder after the recent passing of Catherine O’Hara, Diane Keaton, and Rob Reiner. This theme of crossing generations and passing the baton down couldn’t have been made clearer than the way Mankiewicz chose to close his conversation with Burnett, who reminisced on how I Love Lucy star Lucille Ball became a crucial mentor and friend before her death in 1989.

“I’m listening to you with Amy Poehler and the way she talked about you … the way Tina Fey feels about you,” Mankiewicz said. “To that generation of these brilliantly funny women — and plenty of men, too — you’re Lucille.”

It was impossible to leave that room without thinking about Burnett’s signature line: “I’m so glad we had this time together.”

In 2024, when Richard Gadd’s “Baby Reindeer” became a stock-boosting hit for Netflix, there were few Americans who knew his name.

In the UK, however, the Scottish writer/comedian/actor had already emerged as a talent to be reckoned with, blending autobiographical stand-up comedy with theater to create a reputation as an edgy and provocative creator whose shows tended to be equal parts divisive and successful. One of these, his fictionalized true-life story of being stalked and sexually harassed by a female fan, became an Olivier Award-winning hit in the London theater; that was “Baby Reindeer,” and – in the form of a seven-episode miniseries adaptation – it became the vehicle that carried him to wider fame.

Two years later, Gadd has returned with another high-profile miniseries, this time for HBO Max, and like its predecessor, it’s a story that deals with queer sexual repression, unhealthy attachments, and a central relationship that can safely be described without exaggeration as “toxic” – and it’s an even darker (and more twisted) ride that stretches across decades. 

“Half Man,” which debuted on April 23 and continues with one episode per week through May 14, is the story of two “brothers” – Niall (Jamie Bell) and Ruben (Gadd) – whose mothers (Neve McIntosh and Marianne McIvor) have become a lesbian couple after leaving their relationships with the boys’ respective fathers. They are seeming opposites in personality; Niall is quiet, sensitive, and secretly unsure about his sexuality, while Ruben is tough, rebellious, and prone to violence – and unsurprisingly, it’s a match made in hell.

We meet them at the top of the first episode as adults, on the day of Niall’s wedding, when Ruben shows up without warning; his appearance triggers what looks like fear in his “brother from another lover,” and a private meeting between them in a barn at the wedding site turns ugly, launching a flashback format that takes us back to their schooldays, when young Ruben (Stuart Campbell) – already in trouble with the law and trying for a new start – comes home from juvenile detention to become roommate, protector, and bully to young Niall (Mitchell Robertson), all in one.

It’s the dawn of a new and epic relationship, despite a history that has made Niall terrified of the older boy; their seemingly opposite qualities somehow mesh into a kind of symbiotic bubble, in which a tense equilibrium turns them into unlikely allies. Ruben makes sure Niall has nothing to fear from the sniggering schoolyard homophobes who target him, and Niall helps Ruben pass the tests he needs to pass in order to stay in school, Nevertheless, their dynamic is equal parts surprisingly tender and alarmingly lopsided. Though they form a bond, it’s a volatile one, and by the end of episode one – after an uncomfortable-to-watch late night incident that amounts to a sexual assault – there is little doubt that Ruben is a psychopath. By then, however, it’s too late; Niall has become hopelessly ensnared by his manipulations, and their dangerous attachment has taken permanent root.

In episode two, the timeline moves the past forward several years (while rolling the wedding-day story back a few hours as well), bringing Niall forward to his college years. Ruben is once again absent from his life, but the bond is still deep. He struggles to make connections in his new setting – including with another student, the openly gay Alby (Bilal Hasna), who recognizes a side of him that he has still yet to accept for himself. Though he gradually begins to adapt to his new social circle, his insecurities get the better of him – and despite warnings from his mother not to do so, he calls Ruben to come and visit. His arrival triggers another escalating series of incidents, this time entangling Niall’s new friends and culminating in a shocking, jealous-fueled explosion of violence.

Without going on with the story – after all, the two remaining episodes have yet to be released, so we wouldn’t want to spoil anything – it’s safe to say there’s a pattern here, and it’s intentional.

Gadd has already been public about his own struggles with repression, which were directly explored (albeit fictionally) in “Baby Reindeer,” and it’s clear that he had more to say about the effects they had on his life and identity.

As he put it himself, in an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, “Themes of, I guess, masculinity, or what it means to be a man, or ‘I’ve gone through a masculinity crisis’ come into [the show] probably because I’ve been through that in my life, and I feel I can write to it and speak to it.

“I always think that the best kind of art is kept close to your chest, kept close to your heart, kept close to your experiences, and I guess with ‘Half Man,’ there’s a lot in it that I relate to. It’s not an autobiographical piece by any stretch, it’s purely fiction, but it certainly borrows from themes and struggles and issues that I understand.”

That understanding translates to the series through its focus on tracing the roots of Niall and Ruben’s relationship by methodically tracking the cause-and-effect chain that links the major events of their lives together. It explores the contradictory combination of worship and terror, the transgressive eroticism that intertwines danger and desire, the power of the forbidden to make us want it more, and the self-loathing that punishes itself through violence toward others. The inverted framework of the storytelling, which works both forward and back to meet at (we assume) some definitive point, makes following it a bit like putting together a puzzle, which also has the effect of building suspense as we wait to see the “moment of truth.”

Of course, those who prefer a more straightforward narrative might not appreciate the additional challenge, especially when the subject matter – which revolves around experiences, feelings, and behavior that might be entirely unfamiliar to many audiences – is challenging enough by itself, in its own way. Likewise, and for much the same reason, there will be viewers who are unable to relate to its characters, as some of the show’s less-favorable reviews have pointed out.

But it would be naive to assume that the themes in “Half Man” – of fragile masculinity, internalized homophobia, misdirected rage, nihilistic rebellion, conflicted desires, projected shame, and the other ingredients that infuse this shadow-boxing psychodrama with such a distinctive musky odor – do not apply to more men in today’s culture of incels, “looksmaxxers,” and “the Man-o-sphere” than any of them would like to admit. We’d wager that its portrait of a same-sex, sub/Dom, borderline incestuous relationship might resonate more urgently there than within a queer community that has been grappling with those issues for generations already and are just waiting for everybody else to catch up.

In any case, Gadd’s newest variation on a theme is a solidly crafted, well-acted, and hypnotically fascinating (if sometimes uncomfortable) exercise in the kind of “can’t look away” drama that makes for a perfect binge watch. Or, at least, it will once all the episodes drop.

Uncloseted Media published this story on May 7.

By SPENCER MACNAUGHTON | In 2025, the global cannabis market size was valued at nearly $103 billion. By 2034, that number is expected to explode by roughly 1,400 percent to more than $1.43 trillion.

In short, as an increasing number of countries legalize marijuana use, everyone is starting to consume a lot more weed. And LGBTQ+ people tend to use cannabis at much higher rates than the general population. One study found that 55 percent of lesbian and 45 percent of gay young adults use marijuana, compared to about 33 percent and 37 percent, respectively, of their straight counterparts.

As LGBTQ+ people face a mental health crisis, the mainstream stereotypes that depict weed as an antidote for anxiety, panic and depression aren’t painting the full picture. And that could be exacerbating the mental health struggles so many queer people, and especially youth, face.

Here’s what the research demonstrates about marijuana and its effects on mental health:

• Multiple studies suggest a link between marijuana use and an increased risk of mental health disorders, including schizophrenia, depression and anxiety in individuals who are genetically predisposed.
• One study found that daily marijuana use, especially among younger people, makes some individuals seven times more likely to develop psychosis.

The increase in higher-potency strains of marijuana could pose unknown risks. In 1995, the average content of Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) in confiscated marijuana was less than 4 percent. In 2022, it was more than 16 percent. Researchers don’t know the full extent of the impact that these higher concentrations can have on mental health and especially on younger people whose brains are still developing.

• A systematic review of studies published between 2013 and 2025 found damning results for the mental health of young cannabis users:

They were 51 percent more likely to experience depression, 58 percent more likely to experience anxiety, between 50 and 65 percent more likely to experience suicidal ideation and 80 to 87 percent more likely to have attempted suicide.

• While the above stats paint a grim picture, there is also some research that suggests benefits of cannabis use:
  • A 2025 systematic review found that “medicinal” weed showed some efficacy in relieving withdrawal symptoms of opioid use disorder. THC use has been associated with improvement of post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms, bipolar symptoms and sleep quality.
  • Other studies found that THC administered in a controlled setting was associated with a decrease of symptoms and adverse effects for a range of mental health disorders, including schizophrenia, psychotic symptoms, and anorexia nervosa.

Beyond what we pulled from academia, there is an astounding lack of information about the interplay between weed and mental health. As we dive deeper into Mental Health Awareness Month, I hope advocacy organizations, influencers and news outlets ramp up their coverage of this important topic that affects the countless LGBTQ+ weed smokers, many of whom are already struggling.

When Lesley Ann Warren first watched a cut of the campy musical comedy Victor/Victoria, in which she plays Norma Cassidy, the extravagant showgirl known for shouting “Pookie!”, she thought she’d never land a part again.

“I was so shocked to see myself that way, and I went home, and I cried, for a long time, I thought my career is over. It’s just over!” Warren said before a packed Saturday, May 2 screening of Victor/Victoria at the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood, California, moderated by TCM’s Dave Karger. “So I never thought about [an Oscar nomination].”

Directed by Blake Edwards (Breakfast at Tiffany’s), the film stars Julie Andrews as Victoria Grant, a down-on-her-luck performer who meets an older gay man (played by Robert Preston) and winds up posing as a man impersonating a woman on stage. As her artistic career takes off, though, so does her romantic one, as the insecure gangster King Marchand (played by James Garner), who starts off in a relationship with Norma, begins wondering if his attraction to Victoria (or Victor, as she’s known to the outside world) makes him gay. Following the 1982 film, Victor/Victoria was adapted into a 1995 Broadway musical; Andrews was the only part of the production to be Tony-nominated (she famously declined the recognition.)

In 1983, Warren would go on to receive an Oscar nomination in the supporting actress category; Andrews and Preston also earned acting nominations, and the film was recognized for adapted screenplay, production design, and costume design, even winning for its music. Warren’s nomination was surprising because the Academy rarely values comedic, over-the-top performances.

“I honestly didn’t even keep track. I knew that MGM was doing this incredible campaign for me, but I wasn’t a part of it because I was working [on A Night in Heaven], and different times,” Warren recalls, explaining she found out about the nomination after producer Joel Silver called her early in the morning. “It was an out-of-body experience. They had to stop filming that day — all these outlets like Entertainment Tonight flew in to see my reaction … It was thrilling.”

Even more so than the Academy’s recognition in 1983, Warren’s status as a queer icon who resonates deeply with LGBTQ+ audiences has stuck with her, mainly for her work in Victor/Victoria, Cinderella, and, of course, cult favorite Clue. When asked about what that status means to her, Warren expressed strong enthusiasm for her queer fans.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a surprise, I’m thrilled because I love them,” Warren said. “Especially Clue and Victor/Victoria, there’s such larger-than-life women in a way, and that’s really part of the appeal. But I was telling you backstage, I have gotten incredible responses from many people, but two specific people who happen to be brilliant directors.”

Warren said she heard this feedback from openly queer filmmakers Rob Marshall, who went on to direct Chicago and Into the Woods, and Lee Daniels, who helmed The Butler and Precious. “The pain that Cinderella went through and the ostracizing, [Daniels] felt as a child,” she recalled. “He said he used to sit in the corner of his bedroom and sing ‘In My Own Little Corner,’ and it gave him comfort.”

It didn’t take Warren nabbing the Oscar nomination, or the queer community’s love and admiration, for her to come around on her performance in Victor/Victoria, though: everything clicked at the film’s premiere. “I heard and saw the reaction of the people in the flesh, in the moment, and I thought, ‘Oh, I’m going to be OK!’”

Based on the contagious, uproarious laughter that could be heard across the entire TCL Chinese Theatre on Saturday night, Warren’s campy-as-hell performance in Victor/Victoria continues to steal the show nearly 45 years later.