The Most Terrible Queer Cult Classic You Have to Watch: But I’m A Cheerleader
Al Stone-Gebhardt | April 18, 2024
Amidst the stress of impending finals, where we are all sorely burnt out and seeking refuge from the restless grind, emerges a pressing need for respite: Lo and behold, it is also Gaypril — so why not revisit the most-hated cult classic queer film of all time?
“But I’m A Cheerleader,” produced by director Jamie Babbit, was released to the public in July of 2000. It marked Babbit’s debut in filmmaking and quickly made waves in the waters of queer cinema, renowned for its unapologetic, raucous comedy, slapstick satire and sapphic-centered romance. The film has carved itself a cult following for its audacious flair.
To create this masterpiece, Jamie Babbit enlisted the help of Brian Wayne Peterson, who aimed to make a movie that not only entertained but, more importantly, provoked.
Through the lens of this film, Peterson hoped to incite conversation around the use of conversion therapy, the prevalence of AIDs and the artificiality of gender roles. Both harbored aspirations of tangible change.
While Peterson and Babbit did not achieve the latter, they certainly achieved the former through “But I’m A Cheerleader.” Suppose you check the antique film reviews through Rotten Tomatoes, you will see that hell hath no fury like angry heterosexuals — not to mention, ironically, queer individuals who seemingly missed the entire, incredibly satirical plot.
Yet, in between the clamoring dissent, we cannot overlook this film's flashy visuals, seemingly encased with a glossy, plastic veneer. It’s the film’s most striking feature, and undoubtedly my favorite aspect.
From the movie’s inception, the costumes tell the viewer that this narrative refuses to be subtle in its imagery.
For example, in the beginning, we see the main character (and potential lesbian, played by Natasha Lyonne), Megan Bloomfield, gracing the screen with muffled oranges and soft yellows, juxtaposed against her fellow cast members dressed in muted, dull beige — to me, this is no less than a clarion call to the discerning viewer and an invite into Babbit’s world, where symbolism reigns supreme.
Moreover, as the audience watches Megan embark on her journey into True Directions (more on that later), she, alongside her queer peers, dons the same ostentatious baby blues and soft pink hues, maintaining a consistent visual motif throughout the duration of this flick.
One might say that this film is incredibly on-the-nose with its color coding — but that is exactly what makes it so charming! The viewer cannot help but feel drawn by the outlandishness of it all. The combined Barbie-meets-Edward Scissorhands-meets-John Waters aesthetic of “But I’m A Cheerleader” enables it to stand out as a clever and captivating focal point.
This film’s plastic, pristine, minimalist exterior works as a critique of the superficiality of gender constructs, which are just as fake as the cast’s outfits!
And yet, not just the clothes are used as a narrative device. The dollhouse-like setting of the True Directions also speaks to the facade these queer adolescents maintain to conform to the heteronormativity around them.
In the best way possible, the whole movie is an eyesore!
As a whole, “But I’m A Cheerleader” makes its mark with these incredibly tasteful spectacles — it fits right into the niche of faux-surface-level aesthetics interwoven with profundity that heterosexuals just cannot seem to comprehend. So it should’ve been an instant queer classic, right?
Well, no.
As Babbit herself acknowledged, female sexuality is often the victim of harsher critique than male, which initially led to the excision of the film’s more risqué scenes from the final cut. More importantly, the film reviews were scathing — cinematic judgment ate “But I’m A Cheerleader” alive.
However, I am here to clarify that this queer classic got a bad rep. It was unfairly vilified and deserves a revisit, especially in the month of Gaypril, when we can look back on our heritage in search of inspiration and pride. Thankfully, as of late, the tides of vehement criticism have been turning, and recent reviews testify to what a hidden gem this movie is.
At the film’s core, “But I’m A Cheerleader” follows Megan’s journey of self-discovery and exploration of adolescent romance and identity. Rightfully so, it resonates with young queer individuals grappling with their own journey of self-realization. Queer youth who stumble upon this film may find a comforting reflection of their struggles, confusion and triumphs within Megan.
From the outset, Megan’s queerness is “signaled” to the masses, marked by eating tofu, listening to Melissa Etheridge and having pillowcases decorated with Georgia O’Keeffe’s iconic floral imagery. For these crimes, Megan’s parents send her away to True Directions — a conversion house for gay youth — to be cleansed of her queer attractions.
But there is a catch: she cannot be gay! She is a cheerleader, the very epitome of femininity and heterosexuality!
Nevertheless, Megan must trade in her pompoms for pink robes through True Direction’s 5-step program. The audience is invited on a surreal odyssey as she works her way up the steps with other inmates: a gaggle of repressed, very horny and very queer teens, all living together in a small house in the countryside.
To fix the inherent problem of queerness, True Directions has devoted a curriculum to indoctrinating gendered norms into our unconventional cast. Here, girls practice diapering baby dolls and scrubbing floors while their male counterparts chop logs and undergo militaristic training — well, attempt to, that is.
These fruitless endeavors are an obvious mockery of heteronormative expectations and highlight the absurdity of trying to change one’s sexual orientation through forced conformity — it is terrific and incredibly novel in its approach of using exaggerated stereotypes to underscore the ridiculousness of attempting to alter one's sexual orientation.
These scenes, teeming with humor and rich with euphemisms, taut with wit and charm, offer something that heterosexual camp just cannot hope to imitate.
For example, the fierce, draconian monarch Mary Brown (played by Cathay Moriarty) holds vacuuming lessons that appear suspiciously rhythmic. On the other hand, the boys’ supervisor, Mike (played by RuPaul Charles), conducts car repair classes replete with double-entendres (“add a little more oil and shove it in and out”).
However, despite the film’s raunchy humor, the real beauty of “But I’m A Cheerleader” arises from the blossoming romance between Megan and her best friend, Graham Eaton (played by Clea DuVall).
Throughout the film, we witness Megan fumble, lost, adrift between worlds: rejected by the confines of heteronormativity, yet simultaneously at a loss for how to be queer or fit in with the residents at True Directions. She remains an outsider in both spheres.
To me, the residents’ feelings — their innate longing to correct something that is not wrong — are so earnest that they are bittersweet. It is humorous, yet you cannot help but feel for these adolescents, told their identities are unnatural and immoral, working fervently to “fix” themselves (“I can’t wait to be straight; I’ve always wanted to be!”).
It feels close to home for many.
This is where Babbit’s film transcends satire; “But I’m A Cheerleader” not only mocks the ex-gay and conversion therapy movements but reveals more about them — the beating heart behind the closet. It is through this crucible of self-discovery that Megan learns what it means to be a queer person from her peers, navigating the complexities and awkwardness of teenage love, all while confined within the oppressive environment of True Directions.
It is ironic, it is snarky and it is fun.
Additionally, the viewer witnesses Megan gain gradual confidence in her queer identity, as well as her slow, helpless and predictable descent into love the first time. This romance is undertaken with a tender, touching and relatable awkwardness.
Ultimately, Megan’s journey culminates in triumphant self-acceptance — and does not sacrifice cheerleading in the process. And, in an obvious twist, she inspires Graham to do the same: a cheerful ending and a resounding victory for love in all its forms!
It is all you could ever ask for from a lesbian romance: raunchy, campy, clumsy, beyond heartfelt and full of rhyming cheers and pompoms. It is a story about young sapphic love, and it offers both laughter and tears in equal measure.
For me, “But I’m A Cheerleader” stands as a beautiful representation of young queer experiences and adds so much to the world of lesbian representation with its heartfelt sincerity.
Unfortunately, where watchers and reviews often falter is in their preconceived expectations. While some criticize its perceived superficiality, mirroring the very same heterosexuality and gender norms it satirizes, this criticism overlooks the film’s intentional campiness.
For the viewers who did not get it: Babbit’s film never attempts to insert gratuitous dramatic moments nor takes itself too seriously. It knows it is camp and absurd and does not shy away from this point. The comedy comes from knowing just how pointless and silly True Directions is.
Yes, “But I’m a Cheerleader” could have adopted a more solemn approach, delving into the psychological impact of gay conversion programs. However, it chose to be unconventional, using satire to address the subject matter, and for that, I am grateful. After all, conformity has never been the queer strong suit.
In times of adversity, such as the stress of the upcoming cram week, sometimes the most cathartic response is not solemn reflection but uproarious laughter. And that is precisely what this film asks us to do.
So, whether you missed it the first time around or are looking to redefine queer cinema for yourself, I suggest watching “But I’m A Cheerleader” for the incredibly corny rom-com that it is. Bursting with euphemisms, straight entitlement, hilarious heteronormativity, makeover montages and a heartfelt message of resilience, it’s a film that will leave you laughing and feeling uplifted despite it all.