‘But I’m a Cheerleader’ Is a Modern Queer Masterpiece

One of the most sexually charged and hilarious make out scenes in film history has almost nothing to do with making out. Early on in director Jamie Babbit’s satirical romantic comedy But I’m a Cheerleader, the wide-eyed Megan (Natasha Lyonne) is pressured to make out with her boyfriend. There’s far too much tongue and so much spit you can feel the slobber through the screen. Only one thing that can make the wincing Megan plow through this ordeal: imagining the skin-tight sports bras and revealing bloomers of her fellow cheerleaders.

That’s the beauty of Babbit’s 1999 film. But I’m a Cheerleader is as innocently romantic as it is blatantly sexual. And twenty years after its release, there is still no other movie better at pointing out how stupid heteronormative gender and sexuality expectations are.

The entire premise of the bitingly funny film is one giant middle finger. On paper, Megan is a perfect teenager. She follows rules, seems to do well in school, is popular and respectful, and plays after-school sports. She just also happens to be a closeted lesbian.

But I’m a Cheerleader’s funniest and saddest moments come from Megan’s cluelessness about her own sexuality. Though she has a boyfriend she tolerates, her parents suspect their daughter’s actual sexual preference, well before she does. As they send her away to True Directions, a too-bright and militaristic conversion camp, Megan seems more surprised and confused than upset. After all, she’s a “perfect” teenage girl. She’s a cheerleader. Why would anything about her defy the WASP-y, suburban cage her parents have built around her?

True Directions becomes a perverse blessing in disguise. As Megan is surrounded by more and more teenagers struggling with their sexual identities, she starts to find words to describe her lifelong attraction to women. She even gets a defiant edgy girlfriend in the form of Clea DuVall’s Graham.

Almost every detail of But I’m a Cheerleader, from its bright blue and pink backgrounds to its stilted performances, is jarringly on the nose. But that’s the point. When the film is most strictly following “traditional” gender and sexual expectations, it’s almost robotic — a reflection of how inhumane and ridiculous these societal pressures are. It’s only when Megan is alone with Graham or one of her other new LBGTQ+ friends that But I’m a Cheerleader gains emotional complexity. It’s when the movie moves away from its jail, that it becomes human again.

There are so many incredible films about lesbianism and feminism that beautifully illustrate love and the importance of self-acceptance. But very few have been able to capture that essence without also metaphorically screaming about the hypocrisies of heteronormativity. That’s the line Babbit’s movie walks, and Lyonne nails, in one of her earliest and best roles. And it may be two decades old, but the points the movie makes are still as relevant today.

Where to watch But I'm a Cheerleader