FEMME directors Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping on reimagining queer cinema, reclaiming power and creating the ultimate anti-hero.

WORDS BY CLAIRE MOUCHEMORE

In the opening scenes of erotic thriller FEMME, Jules is the target of an orchestrated homophobic attack in an East London off-licence store, a harrowing moment that leaves Jules bloody and traumatised. Months later, no longer dressed as his glam drag alter ego, Aphrodite, Jules encounters his attacker, Preston, at a gay sauna. Suddenly, Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping’s gripping feature debut transforms into a queer revenge psychodrama, as Jules and Preston wrestle with sexuality, trauma and desire.

Based on their 2021 short film of the same name, FEMME is “a revenge story about reclaiming agency”, co-director Freeman says. When I sat down with London-based co-directors Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping in late December of 2023, they were still reeling from their wins at the British Independent Film Awards (BIFA) earlier that month. Their queer spin on the classic femme fatale trope landed their debut feature film Best Joint Lead Performance, Best Costume Design and Best Make-Up & Hair Design. Since premiering at the 2023 edition of the lauded Berlinale International Film Festival, FEMME has toured to film festivals across the globe, garnering praise for its ability to subvert gender and portray queer characters in positions of power.

In FEMME, the sentiment of feeling unsafe for presenting in a gender non- conforming way is echoed. Starring Nathan Stewart-Jarrett as an effeminate Jules and George MacKay as the hyper-masculine Preston, the film takes audiences on a journey through the power struggle between a liberated and a closeted protagonist and how they assert dominance over each other. While the film depicts a myriad of queer experiences, it also presents the raw human emotion that accompanies coming to terms with loss, mistrust and betrayal. “You don’t need to be queer to empathise with what this queer character is feeling,” Ng remarks, referencing the struggles Jules faces following his attack.

FEMME subverts and challenges what audiences believe queer film should be. The film poses the question: ‘What if, instead of suffering quietly, the protagonist takes a dark path to grasp his agency?’ Unlike other queer films that have toed the deep-seated industry line, FEMME forgoes the pressure to assimilate into the wider culture and rejects predetermined ideas of how characters are allowed to regain their power. “As queer storytellers, we find queer joy to be really important. And we consume a lot of those stories ourselves. But we needed to step out of that box and tell a new sort of story that falls into a different genre of film,” Freeman shares. The pair wanted to reimagine queer cinema by telling stories beyond those that centre characters coming out or silently suffering before arriving at their sought-after reconciliation.

While ruminating on the idea for the film, Freeman and Ng were faced with arguments around the ethics of the film: how could they run the risk of portraying violence against marginalised communities and, in turn, potentially retrigger and re-traumatise folks who have faced similar experiences? “The film explores the idea of heterophobia,” Freeman reveals. “We realised that whenever we felt anxious in the world, it was due to ending up in a place that felt exclusively heterosexual and overtly masculine. It’s when you start to think: ‘I don’t quite fit in here, I can’t quite access this conversation.’”

When dealing with themes around sexuality and gender, the film aims to reflect queer experiences and spaces authentically, such as the gay sauna in which Jules and Preston reacquaint themselves. In too many films, gay saunas are represented as dangerous, deviant places, and while some of them may fit that brief, Freeman and Ng aimed to condemn the predatory nature that is often projected onto cruising spaces by hetero filmmakers. FEMME flips this very trope on its head, portraying the sauna as a safe meeting place in which consent is respected. The reality is that the space only becomes unsafe when Preston arrives.

The attack that’s depicted in the opening scenes of the film echoes the tragic reality many queer people face when walking the streets of the cities they call home. Across the UK in 2023, queerphobic attacks were on the rise. According to UK charity Stonewall, the Government’s National LGBT Survey revealed that less than one in ten LGBTQIA+ people report hate crimes or incidents. In addition, hate crimes on the basis of sexual orientation have risen by a shocking 112% in the last five years. This is, sadly, unsurprising, considering that the UK has been subjected to a decade-and-a-half- long tirade of a conservative-led constitution. Under the thumb of the Tory government and their relentless push for anti-LGBTQIA+ legislation, 2024 feels like an unsafe time to be visibly queer. But for many, masking our queer identity and opting to present as more straight-passing isn’t an option.

Putting their own spin on queer cinema has been a long time in the making for Freeman and Ng. After meeting back in university almost a decade ago, the pair hit it off and soon became good friends, bonding over a mutual appreciation for sci-fi and Dungeons and Dragons. At the time, Freeman was working as a screenwriter and Ng a theatre director. While roommates, the pair toyed with the idea of working on something together. “We were frustrated and feeling excluded from a part of the film industry we really connected with. It was a [straight] boys’ club that we weren’t allowed into and couldn’t even imagine ourselves in,” Freeman shares, reflecting on the gatekept neo-noir thriller corner of the film industry. As first-timers looking to write and direct a film, they were advised to develop their idea into a short film as a proof of concept that would help rally excitement and prospective funding. What emerged was their 2021 BIFA-winning and BAFTA-nominated short of the same name.

For the directors, it was paramount that the film took care to avoid harmful stereotypes, while establishing unrelenting storytelling. “One of the great successes of the film is that everyone who watches it comes out saying ‘I was so scared,’” Freeman shares. Here, audiences are captured by Jules’ fear – “They’re in his head experiencing heterophobia first-hand.” So, when we witness him brutally beaten, as Aphrodite, by a gang of men, its cruelty resonates, in some way, with viewers. “The idea of having a drag queen who loses their power and then reverts to becoming a drag king to enact their revenge on the people who took it away is the dark, twisted narrative we wanted this film to explore,” Freeman says.

As Jules and Preston’s dynamic becomes increasingly complicated and dark, FEMME sheds the good-bad binary and gives way to nuanced, layered character arcs. As Ng notes, cinema suffers due to the lack of powerful queer protagonists. In order to bring more realism to the role, the directors brought on Drag Race UK alum Jonbers Blonde to carry over character authenticity to the big screen, while maintaining the feeling of safety for the actors. Blonde stepped up as drag mother to lend their charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent (C.U.N.T) to coach Stewart-Jarrett through the role of Aphrodite. Meanwhile, Robbie Taylor Hunt, an intimacy director and coordinator who specialises in queer intimacy on screen, ensured the cast felt safe throughout filming.

For Freeman and Ng, representing characters authentically was equally important as their choice to genuinely portray the shifts in power throughout the protagonists’ relationship. As the film progresses, FEMME’s distinction between the hero and the villain becomes more and more blurred. It’s clear that Jules is, in fact, the anti- hero, and all of the characters carry their own flaws, which render them irrefutably unlikeable. “Nothing in the film is binary, be that gender or sexuality,” Freeman shares. “Even the binaries that define what a hero and villain is aren’t particularly interesting to us.” Ng chimes in, adding, “It’s just not realistic or satisfying to have clear-cut villains and heroes.”

FEMME is now available to stream on Netflix.

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The Australian musician on their Nicole Scherzinger-influenced queer awakening, the thirst-trap that kickstarted their romance with Selling Sunset’s Chrishell Stause and their new pop-rock album, Drummer. 

WORDS BY CLAIRE MOUCHEMORE 
PHOTOGRAPHY BY CALLUM WALKER HUTCHINSON AND NAZRIN MASSARO
HEADER DESIGN BY YOSEF PHELAN

“I’m a proud they/them,” G Flip says, seated in their signature skater boi slouch. It’s a warm Wednesday afternoon in St Kilda, Melbourne and we’re sitting on the rooftop of the grand Victorian Pride Centre, a shiny new hub for Australian LGBTQIA+ communities – a place where G Flip, born Georgia Flipo, regularly volunteers. Lounging in sunlight, the moment marks one of the few breaks the 30-year-old has had on their packed-out touring schedule: screaming fans, sold-out dates, and killer drum solos. 

Opposite the sweeping beachside view, the musician reflects on how much things have changed. “Before this all took off, I was teaching music to kids, DJing, playing at weddings and touring with bands,” they say, behind grey-tinted sunglasses. “Music is all I know. It’s all I can and want to do.” Now, with over a million Spotify listeners and a slew of global shows on the cards, their profile has never been bigger – yet they remain nonchalant, a quirk that carries across their work. 

This characteristic coolness filters into G’s music, where thumping drum patterns and fast-paced pop-inspired hooks characterise their diaristic tunes. It’s also present in the androgynous personal style which has made them a heartthrob to many in the queer community. Today, they’re relaxing in their familiar G-core style; a burnt-copper corduroy cap, a thick Cuban link chain and a baggy white tee. But while the musician’s easy-going nature is part of their appeal, the past twelve months have been anything but laid back. Not only did they release their sophomore studio album, Drummer, but they took home two prestigious ARIA Awards – Best Video and Best Australian Live Act – and married their partner Chrishell Strause. As for what’s next? “Nothing is off-limits”. 

On the rooftop, G shares aspirations of wanting to be a non-binary role figurehead, someone LGBTQIA+ people can look to and learn from. So, it’s fitting that we’re chatting in the St. Kilda suburb – the first spot G performed as a newbie musician over a decade ago, a place they call home. Nowadays, however, the drummer splits their time between Australia and LA settling overseas with their wife. It’s a queer happy ending which has been a long time coming. “I always had queer thoughts growing up, but I was fighting it. I would tell myself ‘you’re not a lesbian’ – I was, in fact, a lesbian,” they laugh. The moment of queer clarity came after watching the music video for The Pussycat Dolls’ ‘Don’t Cha’: “I watched the music video and saw Nicole Scherzinger and was like ‘oh yeah, I am a lesbian.” 

Music has always been an escape for G. “I was closeted through all of school. I hid behind my drum kit, and the music, so no one would clock me,” they say. G began drumming at the age of nine and would scan the TV screen looking for someone who was like them. But understanding their gender came at a later age. “Around five years ago, I heard the word non-binary, looked into what it meant and, straightaway, I was like, holy shit, I’ve been non-binary my whole fucking life!” they enthuse. As they explain, gender euphoria allowed G to fully step into what they call the “in-between” and exist as their truest self. “Coming out as non-binary in 2021 really helped me understand myself and all the questions and weird thoughts I had growing up,” they explain. “I wish there were more people that were out as queer non-binary when I was younger because it would have helped me quiet those darker thoughts.”

Coming out as non-binary in 2021 really helped me understand myself and all the questions and weird thoughts I had growing up

Following their time at high school in 2011, G began working towards a music degree, studying drums, and taking up touring. As their creativity took hold, the musician began writing songs in their bedroom, uploading recordings to the Australian music discovery radio station Triple J Unearthed. By 2018, their debut single ‘About You’ spiked on Soundcloud and began setting the foundations of their mega-online fandom. Later that year, G released their 2019 freshman album About Us. Since then, the musician has collaborated with alt-pop singer-songwriter Lauren Sanderson on ‘GAY 4 YOU’ while their solo tracks – ‘Be Your Man’ and ‘The Worst Person Alive’ – have pulled in over 14 million streams. 

Their new album, Drummer, marks a major milestone in terms of their artistry – slicker and more cohesive, but retaining the forthright nature of their DIY beginnings. The body of work also represents an opportunity for them to confront their past traumas head-on. Standout track ‘Kevin’, for example, squares up to homophobes and online slander – something G has had to face throughout their rise to prominence. “I’ve had to have pretty thick skin when it comes to trolls who say shit about my gender identity online,” they say. “I don’t mind being a voice and role model for the queer and non-binary community because I can take the heat those uneducated people throw at me. I can take it, and in return, I do my best to try to open people’s minds.” 

There’s light in the dark, too, especially when G opens up about the emotional intricacies of their relationship. Case-in-point is fan favourite ‘Be Your Man’, where the musician sings about the healing power of queer love and the sexual and emotional fulfilment it can offer. For the sake of queer joy, I ask G to give me a play-by-play of how the relationship which inspired this song – their marriage to realtor and Selling Sunset fave Stause – came to be, and they don’t disappoint. For those looking for love, take note: you don’t have to be an LA socialite; sliding into someone’s DMs still works. 

The pair initially met, in 2021, backstage at a show G was playing in LA. Fast forward to five months down the line, Stause and G reconnected on Instagram. “It was summer and I posted a bit of a thirst trap on my IG story where I had my rig [Aussie slang for body] out. Chrishell slid into my DMs with a flame emoji and it was on,” they recap. “I asked her to hang out and she invited me to a party at her place in LA so I could ‘meet some people’ because I was still new in the city.” Quickly, what started as an online flirtation spilt into IRL fireworks. “I rocked up alone and Chrishell had been stood up by some guy that night, and thank God she was,” they recall. “We ended up flirting and had a cheeky make out in the pantry up against the dog treats and protein bars – now, she’s my wife!” 

 

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A post shared by G FLIP (@gflip)

The couple’s hard launch had the queer community shook. Following Stause’s heart-warming announcement of their relationship on the reunion episode of the fifth season of Selling Sunset, the pair amped things up in the steamy music video for G Flip’s ‘GET ME OUTTA HERE’. Now, almost a year later, the duo have become queer royalty – not least due to their ability to keep LGBTQIA+ fans fed. Following their one-year anniversary, Stause posted a video montage of memorable moments which ended with a shot of the couple kissing at the altar – breaking the news that she and G had eloped and wedded Vegas-style in May of 2023. The pair have been inseparable since October 2021 and become queer fan-favourites. “She’s my best friend, my person,” G reflects. “I adore that woman with all my heart and I just want her with me all the time. I’m so excited for our future together.”

I adore that woman with all my heart and I just want her with me all the time. I’m so excited for our future together

With everything on track for G, the musician is looking to spread queer joy and inspire others. “I want to provide a support system for up-and-coming artists because you can get really lost in this industry,” they explain. Having spent time teaching, mentoring and volunteering with queer youth, the musician is keen to pave the way for further queer musicians. From performing at local pubs in Melbourne as a 20-something to selling out London’s KOKO three nights in a row, a lot has changed. As for advice to aspiring LGBTQIA+ artists, they say: “Keep practising! No dream is too far out of reach. Everything in this world is possible.” 

With an upcoming US tour and newly announced headliner shows in the UK this coming September – following their triple dates at KOKO  – for next autumn, the musician is pushing their music and brand to a new level. For now, all eyes are on G. While they’ve hinted at another album, their 2024 ambitions lie beyond music and strive to lead by example to their younger self: “I want to be the non-binary role model I never had.”

G Flip’s new album Drummer is out now and available on all streaming platforms.

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To celebrate International Trans Parent Day, Claire Mouchemore speaks to trans parents and their children about what family means to them.

WORDS BY CLAIRE MOUCHEMORE

Family doesn’t have to mean a mum, dad and 2.5 kids living in the suburbs. It can come in all shapes and sizes, from single parents to blended households. In the queer community, we’ve long found ways to celebrate forms of kinship which fall outside of heteronormative models – whether it’s revering our queer elders or embracing the chosen family who have stood by us when blood relatives have not. 

Whatever family looks like to you, across ties of friendship or strands of DNA, it’s important to hold your loved ones close. However, trans and non-binary parents don’t receive the same recognition that cis mothers and fathers do, making it all the more important to explore what family can mean outside of cisgendered norms. 

Below, we spotlight different trans-led families to celebrate International Trans Parent Day, which falls annually on the first Sunday of November.  

“When an adult decides to call you their mother, you instantly feel attached to them.”

Miss Major Griffin-Gracy (all pronouns) 82 and Beck Witt (he/him) 44

Stonewall veteran, trans activist and author, Miss Major is a mother to three children: her two sons 52-year-old Jonathan (he/him), 44-year-old Christopher (he/him), and her youngest Asiah (he/him), a two-year-old. Beyond that, she is a maternal figure to many – some of whom she has never met. 

In an interview with Toshio Meronek, you once said, “If your mother doesn’t treat you right, pick another mother.” You’ve been a parent figure to many in the community. How did that all begin?

MM: You don’t have a say in who refers to you as a mother. One day, years ago, a girl asked me if I would mind her calling me mother and I gladly accepted. That’s how this started and then it just overtook me! Some parents don’t always take to their children, even if they have carried that child inside of them. I never had that experience, but I can still create that emotional bond with someone. When an adult decides to call you their mother, you instantly feel attached to them. 

What does being a parent mean to you?

MM: It’s everything. Kids open you up to see the world differently and make you forget all the bullshit that you’ve been through. Times change but children always remain a joy in your life. They always endear themselves to you. You constantly feel overjoyed and blessed to have them. 

What advice would you give to new parents?

MM: Love them, that’s all you have to do. Care for them, look out for them and always be there for them. When you get older, they don’t have the time anymore because they’re becoming their own person and they’re moving into a new chapter. Go with the flow; don’t object to it. Cherish the time when they’re young and let them go out into the world when they’re ready. 

“Sometimes I just look at her and think, oh my god, how great is it to have queer parents? She can be whoever she wants when she grows up.”

Logan Brown (he/him) 27 and Bailey J Mills (they/them) 24 

Nova, a five-month-old, is Logan Brown and partner Bailey J Mills’ first child. Since Brown fell pregnant a year and a half into his relationship with Mills, the couple’s lives have significantly changed, bringing them closer together as they navigate parenthood amidst their mid-to-late twenties. Throughout their pregnancy, and since giving birth, the pair have made it their mission to educate and provide resources around trans parenthood. 

How have you found community and support as new parents? 

LB: We’ve joined a few groups at Proud 2 b Parents in Manchester, including a trans and non-binary parent group. I couldn’t believe I was surrounded by so many people with the same shared experience of parenthood. You don’t see or hear that in your day-to-day life. It was really nice to be in that room and be reminded you’re not alone.

What’s your fondest memory of parenthood so far?

LB: Every day. It’s all the little special things that take place. The first time Nova smiled, laughed or started making sounds, it was beautiful to witness. Sometimes, I look at her and think how great it is to have queer parents. She can be whoever she wants when she grows up. We took her to Pride and had her hanging out with all the drag queens. It was amazing to see her in that environment, held by the queens and surrounded by love and queerness. 

What does family represent for you?

LB: Family is everything. I’ve realised that now more than ever. We want to surround Nova with beautiful people from our immediate family and our queer chosen family. Being a parent means listening, learning, accepting and being there for each other, and lots of cuddles! At the end of the day, it’s all about love. 

You have a book coming out. Can you tell us more about it? 

LB: It’s a children’s book called In My Daddy’s Belly: The Miracle of Male Birth about navigating life as a pregnant trans man. It will be a good resource for cis parents, trans parents and the kids of trans parents and it’s a great book for anyone who wants to learn about different families. 

“We’ve always laughed so much together and brought out the silly side in each other, back then and to this day.”

Catriona Innes (she/her) 38, Jo Clifford (she/her) 70

Catriona Innes’ (she/her) mother passed away when she was 19 and, later in life, her other parental figure, Jo Clifford (she/her), transitioned. A novelist and the Commissioning Director at Cosmopolitan UK, Innes has written extensively about her support for Clifford’s transition, the joy within their parent-daughter relationship and her wedding day where Clifford walked and gave a heartwarming “trans parent of the bride” speech.

What was your family dynamic like when you were growing up? 

CI: My mum, who passed away when I was 19, was a strong feminist writer and my parents didn’t subscribe to gendered roles – I didn’t have a gendered upbringing. 

How did growing up in a household where traditional mother and father roles weren’t enforced impact you? 

CI: It allowed me to challenge what we are taught about who we should be. For example, I decided that I was not going to have children myself. I’m also married but I’ve always been very independent in that relationship. I’ve never viewed the world in a gendered way and it’s led me to challenge what we’re taught and how we can craft our own joy and happiness. It’s been really lovely. 

How would you describe your daughter-parent relationship with Jo? 

CI: We’re very silly together; we have loads of fun and laugh a lot. When I was younger, we used to rollerblade to the patisserie shop and back again. She was always up for doing what the kids wanted to do. She got her own pair of rollerblades and joined us for the ride. It’s carried on like that as we’ve both got older. Sometimes, it’s serious. We’ve gone through a lot as a family, especially when we lost my mum, but we still manage to find lightness together. That’s what I love most about our relationship; she has a lot and brings a lot of joy to those around her.

What’s a memory the two of you share that you’ll always treasure? 

CI: When I was little, I did a lot of dancing in shows. I always remember her laugh because it was so loud that you could always hear it wherever you were – even when I was on stage! She’s a playwright and a wonderful storyteller too. Growing up, she used to make up all these little rhymes that would have us howling with laughter – we’ve always brought out the silly side in each other. 

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