When Promare was released in 2019, the main conversation surrounding the anime film was whether it was considered Queer Cinema, as it was never marketed or clearly presented as such. While Promare’s creative team has remained open-ended about whether the movie’s gay undertones were intentional, they have been more than happy to allow audiences to perceive the film however they wish, which is why it has become widely accepted as a piece of Queer Cinema today.
Promare takes place in a world in which a small group of humans, the Burnish, have pyrokinetic abilities that allow them to manipulate fire at their will. The city of Promepolis – the movie’s setting – persecutes the Burnish because its population views them as a threat to be feared and dealt with. One of the groups leading that effort is the film’s protagonist, Galo Thymos, a pure-hearted character who simply wants to protect his friends and city from danger. He originally believed that the Burnish are the main threat to these things he holds dear. However, as he gets to know these people on a deeper level and discovers that the city is using the arrested Burnish for human experimentation, he quickly teams up with a Burnish leader named Lio Fotia to put an end to these treacherous schemes.
Frankly, as a long-time anime fan who grew up watching and is intimately familiar with the anime produced by Trigger, the studio behind Promare, I’m not entirely surprised this film has been perceived this way. A few of Trigger’s previous titles, including ones shared by Promare’s director, Hiroyuki Imaishi, Kill la Kill (2013) and Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt (2010), have incorporated Queer elements into their narratives and art style without being explicitly LGBTQ+ anime. However, like the experiences I had with Kill la Kill and Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt, many of Promare’s Queer attributes would have admittedly gone over my head during my first viewing had I not been exposed to the discussions surrounding the movie prior.
There are a few moments in Promare that were so obviously Queer-coded that even someone like me, who isn’t a part of the LGBTQ+ community, picked them up. The most famous of such moments is Promare’s emotional climax, in which the shirtless, blue-haired himbo Galo revives his androgynous former enemy-turned-partner Lio by swallowing his flame and kissing him. While creative producer Hiromi Wakabayashi has claimed this scene does not confirm the characters are gay, stating, “Let’s say that you have a friend who’s unconscious and you had to give him CPR. Would that make you gay? Definitely wouldn’t be in my book,” it’s almost impossible to view it in any other context other than a romantic one.
Not only does this kiss last for roughly 25 seconds, but it’s presented as a straightforward romantic moment that’s more evocative of the kiss from Sleeping Beauty (1959) than someone performing CPR. While this moment is followed by a pretty typical anime cliché in which Galo blushes and throws a fit towards Lio, it’s important to note that Galo gets flustered not by the kiss itself but by Lio asking whether Galo kissed him to save his life. This scene is filled to the brim with romantic banter, and it’s made even better when Galo and Lio fuse to form a giant anime mecha that saves the world.
At this point, I began to understand why so many people were shipping Galo and Lio. Even if they aren’t an official couple within the context of the film, there is enough romantic tension and homoeroticism in their interactions that it’s easy to see why so many people perceive them as such. However, these romantic interactions between the protagonists are not the sole reason Promare became associated with Queer Cinema. Other crucial elements, such as the film’s score and allegorical narrative, have also solidified the movie’s status and popularity within the LGBTQ+ community.
At first glance, Promare’s score is bombastic and epic. It excels at making the action set pieces exciting, the music almost acting as an extension of the film’s setting and art style. When analyzing the actual lyrics sung throughout the movie’s score, though, the Queer subtext becomes clear. For example, in the song, “Nexus,” we hear: “So spend some time with me, I really like your company. We’re not so different. Flip the coin, it doesn’t matter. And if we don’t survive, I’d rather die than live a lie.” When analyzing these lyrics on paper, it recontextualizes the score as not just hype songs but romantic ones as well.
The homoerotic messages are amplified by the score, as the songs explicitly spell out the fiery passion that erupts between Galo and Lio, especially near the end of the film. These lyrics heighten my appreciation of the film, especially when using them to frame Promare as Queer Cinema, because as obvious and explicit as they are, they’re tucked away in the background just well enough that I missed them during my first watch. It was only when I took the time to listen to the songs and pay attention to the lyrics that the Queer subtext became more apparent to me. In a way, the music is very much like the film itself in that I went in expecting a loud, grand-scale, and adrenaline-fueled experience. While I still got what I wanted, I also got an extra layer of depth that I didn’t expect but welcomed nonetheless.
These revelations I had about the song lyrics in Promare reminded me a lot of the first time I watched Steven Universe (2013) when I was younger. One of the characters in that show sings a song called “Stronger Than You,” and within the context of the show, I enjoyed it purely as an exciting piece of music that’s accompanying an action scene. It is still effective at serving that purpose, but it was only when I listened to the song on its own that I began to realize the deeper Queer subtext of the lyrics, realizing that it was an anthem of love more than anything. Steven Universe was one of the first pieces of LGBTQ+ art I was exposed to, and it opened up a whole new perspective that was new to me at the time.
Therefore, when I realized Promare was accomplishing a similar goal with its score that Steven Universe did with its music, I couldn’t help but smile and fondly remember those memories. While lyrics like “So spend some time with me, I really like your company” might not be subtle, subtlety clearly wasn’t exactly at the top of the creative team’s mind, considering how hyper-stylized and upfront the narrative and presentation are.
Another aspect of the story that has resonated with the LGBTQ+ community is how the Burnish are treated by both the government and the general population. Despite looking and acting identically to humans, they are dehumanized as an Other that mankind should fear and hate purely because of their fire-wielding abilities, an idea perpetuated by the government led by the film’s antagonist, Governor Kray Foresight. While a small group of Burnish called the Mad Burnish commits acts of terrorism, Kray uses these specific incidents as an excuse to justify using the city-owned police unit, the Freeze Force, to track down and arrest any Burnish, regardless of whether they’ve committed any crimes. They are targeted purely for existing.
What makes this plot point resonate under a Queer lens is how it not only pertains to the discrimination and harassment the LGBTQ+ community has faced in the past but also surprisingly parallels the politically hostile environment they find themselves in today. During the 2024 Summer Olympics, rumors and misinformation were spread on social media that accused Algerian boxer Imane Khelif of secretly being a transgender man. While these claims ended up being debunked as there was no evidence for such claims, the fact that the outrage got so vitriolic in the first place highlights just how antagonistic and aggressive certain people have become against the LGBTQ+ community for simply existing.
For far-right groups and extremists, the very idea of being Queer in general is seen as somehow immoral or a threat to their way of life, and they have reacted to such people with hostility. That is why so many laws have been introduced banning transgender people from competing in school sports, using the bathroom that best identifies their gender, or even getting the gender-affirming medical care they need to exist in general. It’s why laws have been passed banning teachers from instructing or even discussing sexual orientation and gender identity with students, the “Don’t Say Gay” bill that was signed in Florida being one of the most infamous cases.
When considering all this information, it’s easy to see why a Queer audience would emotionally connect with Promare’s narrative. Even if the plight of the Burnish was not intentionally written with a Queer audience in mind, their struggles are still presented in a manner in which the LGBTQ+ community can project their own experience and history onto these characters.
One scene that I particularly found striking is when the Freeze Force arrives at a pizzeria to arrest both the chef and the restaurant owner, even though neither man committed any crimes. They are targeted simply because the chef is Burnish, and the restaurant owner wanted to protect his employee, which, according to the Freeze Force, is a violation of the law. It seems that the general public has no issues with this because right after the arrest is made, the film then cuts to some people spitting out their pizza and throwing it on the ground after learning that a Burnish person made their food.
By presenting scenes like this in the most in-your-face approach, Imaishi ensures that audiences can fervently empathize with the Burnish and feel the justifiable rage they feel towards their oppressors. Lio repeatedly states to Galo throughout the film that they don’t kill anyone without a good reason and simply want the same opportunity as humans to live and exist. Yet to accomplish that goal, they are forced to take matters into their own hands and fight back because it’s the only way they can survive when living under a tyrannical ruler who doesn’t even acknowledge the Burnish’s right to exist. Lio is proud of his Burnish background, and his desire to stand up to Foresight and the government draws some parallels between the gay liberation movement of the 1960s and 70s, a movement that was also driven by direct action, like coming out and engaging in protests, to bring awareness of the struggles and fight for more legal rights of the LGBTQ+ community.
While these themes of oppression, dehumanization of a minority group, and fighting against a ruthless government that disregards the rights of said minority group are not exclusive to the LGBTQ+ community, it makes sense that they gravitated towards this story because of how much it alludes to their personal experiences, especially in this current environment of extreme partisanship, political violence, and right-wing vitriol.
These are just some of the deeper aspects and thematic elements I noticed during my first watch, as there are possibly even more unique points I missed but am excited to discover in a second watch. For example, this piece written by Rebecca Black goes in-depth about the shapes of Promare and how they connect with Queer liberation, something that I was completely oblivious to during my first watch but heightened my appreciation of the film. There’s so much to discuss about Promare from a Queer and LGBTQ+ perspective, but that’s just one aspect of the many layers of depth that make up this movie. Like Trigger’s previous entries, Promare is a hyper-stylized, action-packed film that embodies everything I love about anime as an art form. From its unique animation and visual style to its warm embrace of almost every anime cliché and trope in the book to its over-the-top action sequences, the film offers nothing less than pure entertainment.
The fact that it also has Queer undertones not only gives the film a unique atmosphere that helps it stand out from most other battle-action and power-fantasy anime but is also an element that makes the movie important in general. When it comes to modern LGBTQ+ anime, a majority of them often put their queer attributes at the forefront and make them their central focuses. This method is oftentimes effective, as it has brought about modern classics like Yuri on Ice (2016) and Bloom Into You (2018).
However, what makes something like Promare special is that the film brings enough attention to its Queer undertones that the LGBTQ+ community can resonate with but still balances that perspective with other thematic ideas to the point that anyone, regardless of whether they’re Queer or not, can engage with the story and get something out of it. While some anime like Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury (2022) succeed at finding that balance, Promare is still the most recent one I’ve seen that can do so in such a hyper-stylized, aesthetically pleasing, campy, over-the-top, action-packed way.
While Promare may not be explicitly an LGBTQ+ movie, nor was that element something the creative team behind the movie may have intended, it has nonetheless cemented its place within Queer Cinema.
Article Courtesy of Timmy Lee
Feature Image Credit to Trigger & Toho Co., Ltd. via Medium