Frameline49,
San Francisco's landmark LGBTQ+ film festival, returns June
18-28 with over 100 films showcasing queer lives from around
the globe. From incisive documentaries to expressive narrative
features, the lineup captures a wide emotional and stylistic
spectrum.
This year, a small but potent selection of Asian-focused films
offers a closer look at personal histories—stories of
displacement, belonging, intimacy, and unspoken
connection.
These five films demonstrate the compelling range of queer
Asian cinema today—from confessional documentary to
immersive drama. Each story is carefully drawn, culturally
rich, and emotionally resonant, becoming part of the
essential expressions of queer life, culture, and resilience.
(You may click on each still image or poster for
the corresponding screening or event's showtime and ticket
information.)
In "Between
Goodbyes," director Jota
Mun presents a poignant documentary that delves
into the intricate layers of identity, belonging, and
reconciliation. The film follows Mieke
Murkes, a queer Korean adoptee raised in the
Netherlands, as she reunites with her birth mother,
Okgyun,
in South Korea. Like many adoption narratives,
Okgyun's decision to give Mieke up was influenced by
societal pressures, economic hardship, and familial
expectations.
Six years after their initial reunion, Mieke returns
to Seoul with her wife to celebrate their
marriage. This visit becomes a profound experience of
the cultural chasms that exist between them. Mieke
grapples with the complexities of reconnecting with
her birth family while navigating the nuances of
Korean culture, which often contrast sharply with her
Dutch upbringing and queer identity. The film captures
the tension between her desire for acceptance and the
traditional values held by her birth family.
Director Jota
Mun, a Korean adoptee herself, treats their
dynamic with extraordinary care. The film doesn't
resolve their disparities—it honors their
continued existence, side by side despite the
distance. Her intimate storytelling sheds light on
the emotional aftermath of international adoption,
highlighting the challenges adoptees face when
reconciling their multifaceted identities. The film is
a meditation on the enduring impact of cultural
displacement and the resilience required to bridge
worlds.
Lucky,
Apartment
(럭키, 아파트 | South
Korea 2024 | in Korean | 96
min.)
Seon-woo (Son
Soo-hyun) and Hee-seo (Park
Ga-young), a lesbian couple living in a modest
apartment in Seoul, are the focus
of "Lucky,
Apartment," a grounded relationship drama
that traces the strain of external pressures on
internal bonds. When Seon-woo loses her job and
suffers an injury, the couple's tenuous economic
stability begins to unravel. Meanwhile, a disturbing
discovery in the building—a deceased elderly woman,
unnoticed by neighbors—casts a somber shadow over
their domestic life.
Director Garam
Kangyu crafts a film rooted in realism and quiet
melancholy. The apartment, with its narrow spaces and
thin walls, becomes a microcosm of urban precarity
and emotional erosion. Through its slow-building
tension and empathetic character work, the film deftly
explores how economic vulnerability intersects with
queer intimacy in contemporary South Korea.
"Queerpanorama"
follows an unnamed young gay man (Jayden
Cheung) in Hong Kong who drifts through
successive hookups, each time assuming the identity of
a previous partner. This repetition reflects his
struggle to define himself outside of borrowed personas.
The film's structure is linear, yet its emotional arc
is elliptical: the more he shapeshifts, the less
certain he becomes of who he really is.
Shot in stark black and white and framed in a 4:3
ratio, director Jun
Li's film is pared down yet emotionally
potent. Based on Li's own experiences with app-based
dating, the story is linear and
observational--eschewing stylization in favor of
grounded emotional moments. Jayden
Cheung delivers a quietly resonant performance,
his gaze carrying the burden of someone searching for
authenticity in roles others have written for him.
"Queerpanorama"
highlights how identity is formed in the spaces
between meeting and leaving—where performance and
reality coalesce and diverge.
In "Some Nights
I Feel Like Walking," Zion
(Miguel
Odron) is a teenager who has run away from home,
seeking refuge in the underlit streets of
Manila. There, he finds companionship in a small group
of queer street kids—Uno (Jomari
Angeles), Bay (Argel
Saycon), Miguelito (Gold
Aceron), and Rush (Tommy
Alejandrino)—most of whom engage in sex work
to survive. Their precarious world is jolted when
Miguelito dies; they decide to honor his dying
wish by returning his body to his hometown.
Director Petersen
Vargas crafts a road movie that doesn't
romanticize hardship but treats survival with honesty
and grace. The film focuses on the bonds formed among
outcasts: trust that's fragile but vital, gestures of
care shaped by vulnerability. It honors queer lives
often pushed to the margins without making them
symbols or martyrs. "Some Nights
I Feel Like Walking" is clear-eyed and
deeply affecting—a story about loss, chosen
family, and the longing for dignity, even in motion.
Silent
Sparks (愛作歹 | Taiwan
2024 | in Chinese | 79 min.)
In the slow-burn drama "Silent
Sparks," Pua (Huang
Guan-Zhi), a low-level gangster recently released
from prison, crosses paths with Mi-ji
(Shih
Ming-Shuai), his former cellmate and protector. In
prison, a quiet closeness developed between them,
shaped by reliance and trust. Now back in the outside
world, Pua tries to reconnect. But Mi-ji, still
entangled in gang life, keeps his distance—aware that
anything more than loyalty could threaten both their
safety.
The director Chu
Ping focuses on the emotional undercurrents of
this reunion without forcing confrontation or
resolution. The film moves with a deliberate pace,
capturing the awkward silences, cautious exchanges,
and lingering glances that reveal what neither man can
say. Their dynamic is tense not because of past
conflict, but because of all that remains unresolved.
The night scenes stand out for their atmosphere: dimly
lit streets, storefronts glowing under sodium light,
and alleyways that echo with stillness. The
cinematography is composed but never showy, letting
the setting reflect the isolation each character
feels. Huang
Guan-Zhi and Shih
Ming-Shuai deliver grounded, affecting
performances that give weight to moments of hesitation
and retreat.
"Silent
Sparks" is a story about closeness
deferred: how the codes of masculinity, survival, and
loyalty can quietly suffocate something more tender
before it has a chance to take root; how two men who
once shared a fragile intimacy now find themselves
unable to cross the distance created by fear, duty,
and the roles they've chosen. The roles these men
inhabit leave no room for tenderness, leaving them
with quiet ache and unresolved longing.
