When American audiences were still reeling from Ellen DeGeneres coming out in 1997, Jamie Babbit toppled us over with her 1999 now-cult classic, But I’m a Cheerleader, written by Brian Wayne Peterson, a gay screenwriter who later found success in television with the long-running Smallville. Earning its wide US premiere in 2000, it is known for being one of the most iconic lesbian satirical coming-of-age comedies, which contributed greatly to the broader presence of queer culture in media. Out magazine’s July 2000 issue dedicated the cover shoot and an eight-page spread to its two leads, calling Natasha Lyonne and Clea DuVall “The New Girls of Summer”. As a result of its context and groundbreaking angle, most commentary over the last 25 years understandably has focused on its coming-out, coming-of-age elements and its queered core, as exemplified visually and stylistically with camp and its over-exaggerated color-blocked production design. However, its core narrative elements of a more conventional rom-com — a fraught and heternormatively coded genre in and of itself — often fall to the wayside.
What if we viewed But I’m a Cheerleader first through the lens of a so-called conventional relationship story, rather than simply a coming-out story? Just as U.S. media has seemingly progressed beyond the need for Ellen, U.S. independent film has in theory progressed beyond one-dimensional depictions of coming-out narratives and hidden-lover tales with little nuance (although we see flicks like Love, Simon still garnering shocking amounts of attention). But I’m a Cheerleader gets over this aspect quite early on—making it, dare I say, at its baseline far more progressive than many later films: step one of conversion therapy camp True Directions is, after all, “admitting you’re a homosexual.” On the suspicion of being a lesbian, the mousey and naïve 17-year-old Megan’s (Natasha Lyonne) parents ship her off to True Directions, where she meets the alluring and masc-ish Graham (many a sapphic woman’s first screen crush, Clea DuVall) at approximately the 15-minute mark. Almost immediately afterwards, she’s effectively coerced into coming out—but in a setting where nobody’s actually surprised.
The rest of the tale is devoted to the harmful but also hilarious activities at the camp in conjunction with the blossoming romance between Megan and Graham. Although our protagonist’s drive does waver throughout the screenplay, admitting that she feels it’s “wrong” to have feelings for the latter, it ends up being Megan who sticks it out all the way through. Conversely, Graham, initially so adamant in her insistence not to bow to True Directions’ methods, ends up giving in to please her parents, while Megan must convince her to forgo the brainwashing in the finale.
The standard romantic comedy is a fairly binary-driven, heteronormative construct where the man and woman typically find love in the end after a series of trials and tribulations. The conversion therapy aspect thus runs in parallel to narratives of “will they, won’t they” as seen in romantic comedies—except, of course, the swaying is not done by opinionated friends and bad circumstances but instead, the manipulative heteronormative pull of the camp leader, Mary. The rest of the story is marked by two staple encounters between the duo, which again match the crucial moments of the rom-com structure.
The first moment that Megan experiences lesbian frustration is at almost exactly the halfway point, when the group sneaks out to a queer bar. After Graham dances with Sinead (Katharine Towne), who moves a wandering hand lower on Graham’s body, Megan flees the bar, jealous over their interaction. The scene that then unfolds outside the bar between Graham and Megan temporarily shifts the tone away from sparkly, satirical coming-of-age; in a way, the latter has momentarily come of age because she has fully understood her desire for the former and is talking about it a new way. The remainder of the scene plays out almost exactly like a conventional romantic drama would: Graham responds to Megan’s dismissals of the interaction with Sinead (“I could care less” and “screw you!”) by cutting her off in a passionate kiss. But Megan pulls away, unsure of how to feel—and the film shifts back into its queer coming-of-age narrative as soon as she says, “But I’m not supposed to like you.”
The duo’s second large encounter is at the two-thirds mark, when they have all “passed” True Directions, and Graham climbs into Megan’s bed to have sex. This moment and the last, unlike the rest of the brightly but extraordinarily evenly lit, color-blocked bubblegum pink and baby blue production design, are obscured in shadow. Slivers of light carefully illuminate select parts of their bodies, creating a pseudo-chiaroscuro effect that is visually very different. Again, this scene by itself emulates crucial moments in romance or rom-coms—that moment of confirmation, consecration, and consummation. And of course, in the final scene comes Megan’s profession of love, a deal sealed with a kiss in the back of a pickup truck that drives into the distance.
Other films set in conversion therapy camps, such as Boy Erased and The Miseducation of Cameron Post, flirt with the idea of their characters finding love in their immensely polarized and insular settings. However, nothing has gone as far as But I’m a Cheerleader since, perhaps as it now seems too clichéd or predictable in a “been there, done that” sort of way—but we could say the same about films set in nunneries. It is perhaps unfair to call the work overly heteronormative given when it was released, but it is ultimately a very straightforward flick in terms of its relationship-building. Whether that’s radical, regressive, or simply a product of its times is left to the audience to decide.
“But I’m a Cheerleader” is streaming free on Tubi, Hoopla, and Vudu. It’s also available for digital rental or purchase.
