1, 2, 3, 4! You’re the film that we adore!
Fingers crossed you read that in Natasha Lyonne’s famous New York rasp. If you did, you may recognize the cult classic Jamie Babbit film But I’m a Cheerleader (1999). Let’s use this anniversary to sashay down memory lane.
When I talk to folks who haven’t had the pleasure of viewing this masterpiece, one of the first things out of my mouth is, “RuPaul plays a straight coach at a conversion therapy camp.” Emphasis on the word Camp. In his short shorts and “Straight is Great” t-shirt, Ru delivers a masterclass in comedic irony via the role of Mike. He and his program are called into action by the parents of Megan (Lyonne), a high school cheerleader who doesn’t seem to enjoy frenching her boyfriend as much as her peers do. (To my fellow Gleeks, Megan walked so Santana and Brittany could run.) After a blindsiding intervention, Megan is shipped off to “True Directions,” which looks straight (or gay) out of the vibrant neighborhood in Edward Scissorhands (1990).
Color, color, color! This movie harnesses hues heavily and heartily. In an effort to distinguish gender roles and suppress homosexuality, camp leaders Mary (Cathy Moriarty) and Mike enforce a pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys uniform. The chores and activities designated to each group are laughably stereotypical and fail miserably at having the desired effect: the girls are made to clean, change diapers, and paint each other’s toenails, while the boys must fix a car engine, play sports, and move in army formation. Each party is comically distracted and turned on by one another, including supposedly now-straight-Mike, who can’t take his eyes off Mary’s son, Rock (Eddie Cibrian). Fitting, seeing as Rock is the embodiment of an ideal Pit Crew member for RuPaul’s Drag Race.
The vibrancy continues as every room is painted thoroughly, the bedrooms still in their gendered pink and blue, the living room a seafoam teal, Mary’s quarters a snooty dark green, and the car the boys work on is spray-painted fully dark blue, including the windows. The beauty of cartoon-ifying this particular narrative is the way it highlights the absurdity and foolishness of the pro-conversion-therapy schools of thought.
Once in the program, Megan sees her peers trying to sneak out at night with the help of a middle-aged gay couple who escaped from the camp. Against her best rule-follower instincts, Megan tags along for their evening excursion to The Cocksucker, a local gay bar. Interestingly, the bar lacks the hypersaturated coloring of the rest of the film–it’s a place where nothing has to be covered up and painted over. People aren’t sorted into categorized boxes; they’re free to be themselves.
Though she was sent to “True Directions” to eliminate her desire for women, Megan experiences her first sapphic romance within its walls. Graham (Clea DuVall) is a rebellious, masculine foil to Megan’s hyperfeminine, goody-two-shoes persona. Graham’s hard exterior slowly sheds itself as the pair grows closer, and Megan sees the cruelty of Graham’s parents. Despite the film’s vast supply of humor, it can cut deep.
The most intimate scene between the girls again subverts the brightly lit, colorful compositions of the oppressive organization. They slowly, tenderly kiss and touch one another in dark shadows, set to the sweet song, “Glass Vase Cello Case” by Tattle Tale. It could not be more different from the uncomfortable, brightly lit forced thrusting in the conversion therapy sexual simulation, or the overactive tongue-work of Megan’s jock boyfriend at the film’s start.
In a country where who you love is highly politicized, But I’m a Cheerleader lays bare the harmfulness of suppression. When a gay teenage boy named Joel (Joel Michaely) says to his peers, “I can’t wait to be straight,” while dining at the camp cafeteria, I chuckle to myself; then I frown at the implications of his naive dream. He wishes to be different because his parents and the people around him say that something is wrong with him. As viewers, we know he won’t become straight after a multi-step program sleepaway camp. In fact, he won’t become straight after anything. This film holds up a mirror to the impossible extremist mindset that sexuality can be changed.
Beyond that, it inadvertently proves the performance and construction of gender. When cake is served at the camp, Graham fixes Joel’s and her plates, and Joel says, “You’re so good at being straight. I keep forgetting about, like, all these little things. Get her the cake…” Does every man who likes women fix a plate of food for them? Does every girl who likes a boy enjoy dressing in pink? The film asks these questions because it knows the answer is a resounding: “Um, duh, obviously NO.” Queerness isn’t about drawing new lines in the sand–it’s about erasing the lines altogether, and wondering what use the lines were to begin with.
But I’m a Cheerleader is a queer cultural relic. In the years since its creation, we’ve seen similar representation and politicized dramedy in Glee (2009-2015), the gay goody-goody gone wild in Booksmart (2019), and the more sapphic yearning and witty writing in Bottoms (2023), to name a few subsequent sister works. Now, is Cheerleader itself still at the top of the film pyramid in 2025? Could we make a film like it today?
There is much to consider. Let’s start with the discourse on queer actors playing queer roles. Natasha Lyonne is straight, though she is among the ranks of actors like Darren Criss (Blaine in Glee) who I’ve seen embraced by the gay community for their iconic performances, despite not identifying as LGBTQ+.
This conversation has ramped up in recent years as the apparent queerbaiting police harass and criticize from the comfort of their screens, resulting in situations like Kit Connor’s from Heartstopper, who tweeted: “i’m bi. congrats for forcing an 18 year old to out himself. i think some of you missed the point of the show. bye”
Or an emotional concert monologue from Shawn Mendes about how the public’s speculation on his sexuality feels intrusive and scary, as he himself doesn’t know the answers sometimes. So while the film could be made today, there would be relentless TikTok commentary in its wake. I say let the hot girls kiss each other. I’m looking at you, Sabrina Carpenter and Jenna Ortega.
Another consideration is the black and white nature of the film’s (and its release date era’s) perspective on sexuality. The Carrie Bradshaw “You’re either gay or straight” ideal. To be fair, this mentality is set in motion by the camp leaders, which further conveys their ignorance as they dichotomize attractions and behaviors amongst the kids. In 2025, more visibility of broader ranges of queerness and transgender identities may actually add to an audience’s appreciation for just how harmful and ignorant the conservative adults in Cheerleader are.
For 1999, the film does a decent job of representing the fact that queer people are not all stereotypes. The name itself calls attention to labels and prejudices. For the late ‘90s and early 2000s, the statement that a woman can be straight-presenting and still be attracted to women is pleasantly daring. However, even if there were lines that aged poorly or scenes that made us cringe, it would be a sign of the times, and we’d all (hopefully) have the common sense not to model our lives after a movie character. I like seeing modern media resist shying away from taboos, like the writing in Benito Skinner’s recent TV triumph Overcompensating (2025), based on his own experience of being in the closet in college and the performance of heterosexuality. Good art can survive cancel culture through its humor and heart.
Which brings us to the present! But I’m a Cheerleader is indeed shining at the top of the film pyramid, still beloved by many, countless subsequent films shaking their pom-poms beside it, showing more and more diverse queer stories. The beautiful thing about LGBTQ+ people is that they will exist no matter what context they are born into. Queer people aren’t going anywhere. And ra, ra, ra for that!
Review Courtesy of Risa Bolash
Feature Image Credit to Ignite Entertainment, Lionsgate and Starz Entertainment; Mark Lipson/Kushner-Locke/Ignite via Variety
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