The International Film Festival Rotterdam (IFFR) has never been one to play it safe, but the 2026 queer lineup feels particularly determined to shatter boundaries. Moving beyond the "tragic queer" tropes of the past, this year's selection embraces the full, chaotic spectrum of LGBTQ+ life. From high-prestige period dramas to grit-soaked experimental horror, the programme proves that queer cinema is no longer just a genre—it is a lens through which every cinematic convention can be distorted and reinvented.
The Weight of History: Icons and Echoes
This year's festival seems intent on bridging the gap between cinema's past and its future. The most headline-grabbing inclusion is undoubtedly the screening of Barbra Streisand's Yentl. While a classic musical might seem out of place amidst IFFR's typically avant-garde fare, its themes of gender performance and religious defiance remain strikingly relevant. Streisand's masquerade as a man to study Talmudic Law provides a historical anchor for the festival, reminding audiences that the negotiation of gender roles is a centuries-old struggle.
In stark contrast to Yentl's Broadway-style theatricality stands The History of Sound, directed by Oliver Hermanus. Starring Paul Mescal and Josh O'Connor, this film strips away the spectacle to focus on intimate, raw emotion. Set during World War I, it chronicles the intense relationship between two young music students. While Yentl performs gender for the public eye, The History of Sound explores the quiet, private revolutions that occur between two men in a time when their love dared not speak its name.
Bodies in Flux: Transformation and Excess
If the historical dramas engage the mind, the festival's contemporary selection targets the body. Several films this year grapple with physical transformation, viewing the body not as a fixed vessel but as a site of constant flux.
In Cyclone, director Philip Yung offers a grounded, poignant look at this reality. The film follows a protagonist journeying to Hong Kong for gender-affirming surgery, treating the medical and physical transition as a profound narrative of identity reclamation. It is a stark, realistic counterpoint to the festival's more fantastical entries, such as Anxious Virgin: One More Time, I Love You. Directed by Nakahara Shun, this V-cinema classic takes the concept of gender transition and spins it into supernatural chaos, reincarnating a teenage boy as a girl in a wild exploration of sexual awakening that only Japanese cult cinema could deliver.
On the darker end of the spectrum lies The Passion According to G.H.B. by Gustavo Vinagre and Vinicius Couto. Here, the body is a playground for chemical experimentation. Described as a "bedroom odyssey," the film dives into the world of chemsex hookups, stripping away societal niceties to reveal a raw, unvarnished look at intimacy fueled by artificial highs.
Humor, Horror, and the Subversive
Perhaps the most refreshing trend at IFFR 2026 is the refusal to take queer stories too seriously. The "sad queer drama" is being ousted by films that find joy in the messy, the scary, and the perverse.
Leading the charge is Pillion, a UK feature by Harry Lighton that has already generated buzz as a "BDSM romcom." Starring Alexander Skarsgård, the film challenges the sanitised version of romance often seen in mainstream cinema, exploring power dynamics with a wink rather than a lecture. It pairs well with the delightfully titled Bowels of Hell, an irreverent horror-comedy from Brazil. Directors Gustavo Vinagre and Gurcius Gewdner manage to weave heavy themes of birth and grief into a narrative where toilets play a central role, proving that queer cinema can be profound even when it's being intentionally gross.
Rounding out this subversive trio is the animated short Crocus by Suzan Pitt. A surreal feminist classic, it uses animation to visualise the subconscious, offering a humorous and affectionate gaze at female sexuality that live-action films rarely capture.
Real Lives, Real Icons
Finally, the festival pays tribute to the real-life figures who paved the way for today's cinematic freedom. Mickey & Richard offers a fascinating dual portrait of 1980s gay porn icon Mickey Squires and the man behind the persona, Richard Bernstein. It serves as a necessary archival piece, documenting a subculture that was often ignored or shamed by the mainstream.
Similarly, Fuori by Mario Martone shines a light on Italian author Goliarda Sapienza. A nonconformist who lived decades ahead of her time, Sapienza's life is a testament to the artists who refused to fit into the boxes society built for them. Alongside experimental works like Lin Yi-Chi's Awake Before Your Gaze, which challenges fixed categories of identity through the lens of two Afro-Taiwanese men, these films remind us that the most radical stories are often the true ones.
IFFR 2026 is not offering a single definition of queer cinema. Instead, it offers a challenge: to look at history, the body, and genre conventions, and to see them all as fluid, malleable, and ripe for reinvention.
