Queer Film Double Feature: "Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe" and "Bottoms"
Two recent queer films are timely reminders of the joyful power of young queer love.
Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
I don’t know about anyone else, but I am absolutely loving the plethora of queer content on our screens these days, whether in the form of a prestige drama series or a fun romantic comedy film. I recently had the chance to see both Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe and Bottoms at our local cinema, and I was blown away by both of them. At first I wasn’t sure they would make for a good review pairing but, as it turns out, they both are timely reflections of the angst and joy of young queer love.
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
I knew going into Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe that my feelings were going to be hurt. If you’re a regular subscriber to this newsletter–or are familiar with me in general–you’ll know that I am a sucker for films about adolescents coming to terms with their sexuality and getting to experience first love. I’m not ashamed to say that in many ways I’m working through my own frustrations when I watch these films, and Aristotle and Dante was absolutely perfect for me.
Max Pelayo is perfectly cast as Aristotle (Ari) Mendoza, a young Latino struggling with what it means to be a man for someone caught between multiple identities. There’s something very James Dean-ish about him, from that glorious head of hair to the look of longing that flickers in his eyes, as well as in the way that he often seems coiled up in a rage-filled ball, just waiting to lash out at the first person to say the wrong thing. He’s also haunted by the shadow of his elder brother who, it transpires, once beat a trans prostitute to death once he discovered the truth about her. Only his aunt–who, it turns out, was a lesbian–seems to truly see the sensitive queer boy under his rather inscrutable adolescent exterior.
Enter Dante.
From the moment they meet, it’s clear that there’s something special between Aristotle and Dante. They are perfect complements, for while Ari is brooding and introspective, Dante is far more outgoing and more than a little zany, someone who waxes poetic about the works of William Carlos Williams while cleaning his room. The question looming over them both, however, is whether they can (or should) move their relationship to the next level and become boyfriends. Reese Gonzales is also perfectly cast as Dante, and though his coming to terms with his sexuality largely takes place off-screen in a series of letters written to Ari from Chicago, Gonzales’ imbues his lines with such warmth and human pathos that you can feel his mingled pain and excitement as he comes to terms with this part of himself and what it will mean for himself, his relationship with his family, and his bond with his best friend.
At first, it seems as if Dante's feelings for Ari aren’t going to be reciprocated, and their first kiss fills the latter with rage and disgust (or so he says). When Dante is badly beaten by homophobic bullies, however, Ari responds with his own explosive and violent rage, but while he badly beats one of the perpetrators, thanks to his parents he ultimately realizes that there is nothing to be ashamed of. He loves Dante, and the moment in which his parents–perfectly played by Eugenio Derbez and Verónica Falcón–gently guide him to self-acceptance is as utopian as it is heartwarming. Every teen should be so blessed. Though he flirts with following the same violence-filled path as his brother, Ari ultimately chooses the way of love. As he says to Dante as the film reaches its romantic conclusion: “How could I have ever been ashamed of loving Dante Quintana?” At last, he has found peace in his lover’s arms. Just as Dante supported him when he was first learning to swim, now he can at last help him on his road to recovery.
When, at the end of the film, our two protagonists are both finally able to admit how they feel about one another, it truly is a revelation, and there’s a neat little moment in which the entire universe seems to take shape in their hands. In a lesser film than this one would feel cloying. As it is, it is a reminder of the enduring power of queer love, even in the homophobic 1980s. Though the footage of AIDS protests that play in the background remind us of the darkness and death lurking just outside the frame, the love of Aristotle and Dante reminds us of how many who grew up in the ‘80s found a way to survive and thrive.
It’s a timely message, and a powerful one.
Bottoms
Bottoms is one of those films which is actually both very easy and also very difficult to summarize. Its plot is the stuff of your typical high school comedy: two lesbian friends, PJ (Rachel Sennott) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri) are desperate to get laid, concoct a plan to get with Brittany (Kaia Gerber) and Isabel (Havana Rose Liu), two popular cheerleaders: start a fight club designed to teach young women the value of self defense and empowerment. While accurate, this summary doesn’t really convey the feeling of the film, and if I had to describe it, I would say that the film is very much like what 10 Things I Hate About You would feel like if it were directed by Quentin Tarantino.
Both Sennott and Edebiri are perfectly cast, with the former capturing PJ’s sharp bitterness (with a dash of self-loathing) and Edebiri giving Josie an awkward earnestness that’s a variation of her phenomenal performance in Hulu’s The Bear. They both fit so naturally into their roles that we can well believe that these are two young queer women who have found a remarkable bond and friendship with one another, both because they are both outcasts and because they just seem to get one another. The rest of the cast is also excellent, and particular props to Nicholas Galitzine, who seems to be having quite a queer year of it, between this and his star turn in Red, White & Royal Blue. Here he performs a glorious send-up of the dumb jock stereotype so beloved of high school movies of every stripe.
Now, to be fair, the humor on offer in Bottoms definitely won’t be to everyone’s taste (it certainly wasn’t to The New Yorker’s Richard Brody, who didn’t find the film very funny at all). For those willing to lean into its razor-sharp absurdity, however, there is a lot to enjoy. It’s one of those movies which never takes itself too seriously, and while this means that some of the dramatic moments don’t have a great deal of heft, this is ultimately part of the pleasure. We’re here for the inane adventures of two unpopular queer teens; not a weighty exposition on the nature of youthful angst.
There is one moment of genuine seriousness, when the members of the fight club speak about their experiences being assaulted or stalked, but even this is remarkably short-lived, ultimately overshadowed by Josie’s (completely fictional) recollections of her horrifying time in juvie. In turning the various tropes of the high school film so deftly on their head, Bottoms is something of a queer antidote to its predecessors, puncturing their self-regard and iconic status. The bodies of the opposing football team that lay strewn upon the field at the end of the game might just as well be the remains of every teen comedy that’s come before.
Bottoms, like Aristotle and Dante, is a testament to the power of queer youth to persevere and to find joy and light and laughter, even in the macabre and dark age in which we live.