While we may have a long way to go, when it comes to the subject of inclusion and diversity, it is wonderful to look back and see how far we’ve come as a collective culture. There is still a lot of work to be done, but a lot of the world is starting to become a more accepting and open-minded place, which is reflected in the way we perceive those who don’t quite fit into preconceived notions of what it means to be part of the status quo. Queer stories have become much more common, especially in mainstream culture, with more stories about those drawn from queer backgrounds emerging as time progresses. In the early 1990s, we saw the start of such conversations in the mainstream, with various films, books and television shows directly addressing what it meant to be gay, and opening the doors for discussions between those with identities that deviated from common perceptions, and those who did not quite understand the lifestyle. In & Out joins a small but substantial canon of films that centre squarely on a queer storyline, and present it with compassion and humour, which was not as common as it is now, especially when it comes to actively wanting to change perceptions and challenge conventions, which is far from ideal when it comes to such stories. In & Out is a film of great importance, not necessarily as a result of what it says and does, but rather the ideas it represents, which is massively important when considering how revolutionary this story was at the time – and essentially it opened doors for many mainstream stories about queer culture, which likely could not have happened had a few people not taken the risk in telling a story that not only explored LGBTQIA+ issues, but found a way to actively celebrate them, creating a charming comedy with as much deep insight as it has heartfulness.

From the outset, it’s important to note that In & Out has not necessarily aged all that well. Its references are outdated, and many of its jokes come at the expense of stereotypical humour, often going for the low-hanging fruit. It doesn’t help that no one openly queer was involved in the conception or creation of the film on a narrative or directorial level. However, it is equally important to not only look at this film as a product of its time, but also focus on the details that go beyond these sometimes dated jokes that feel rather awkward at best, which is where the real charm resides. Frank Oz has always been a strong ally for progressive causes, and while some of the content may be slightly off-kilter by modern standards, judging a work of art through contemporary perspectives can only lead to disappointment, since we’re focusing on something that has evolved, which includes the mindsets at the time. The best way to change hearts and minds is to have an earnest conversation, and while it may skirt around many of the more important facts and talking points, it does have the benefit of being of being wildly enjoyable, which is often a very effective device in getting deeper messages across – rather than having the most overwrought, heavy-handed commentary, which may be more grave in how they address the important issues, but can often be inaccessible to broader audiences, who normally choose a film based on whether it is going to entertain them, rather than teach them a lesson. Therefore, it is only logical that In & Out (a film that manages to do both) has become so wildly popular.

Oz has always had a knack for casting his films well, which is a credit not only to the quality of his films, but also his strong connections within the industry, which makes his efforts to put this film together so interesting. Kevin Kline, who was at his peak during the time in which In & Out was produced, takes on the main role of a man whose identity is called into question through a throwaway remark done on a global stage. Suddenly, his life is plunged into chaos, and he begins to wonder if he has been entirely honest with those around him, as well as himself. This is a role that could have very easily been myopic and brutally stereotypical, especially from a self-identified straight actor. Kline is far too compassionate a performer to resort to tics, and while some of his characterization may hinge on constructing Howard as a somewhat fay, effeminate individual who tries to overcompensate for his crisis of identity through typically masculine behaviour (as if being gay and masculine is somehow mutually exclusive – it’s important to not take these details all that seriously), its a much more complex performance, all because Kline has the good sense to look deeper than just the obvious tics. The film also features a cavalcade of reliable supporting actors, including the delightful Joan Cusack and Debbie Reynolds, both of whom are fantastic, as are Matt Dillon and Tom Selleck as the catalysts for the protagonist’s unintended journey of self-discovery. The cast of In & Out is responsible for many very interesting details, and credit must be given where it is due, which is undeniably the case here.

In & Out is not the definitive text on queer issues, nor is it one that is all that impressive narratively or conceptually. In fact, one could even argue that actually having a queer writer involved may have allowed it to have a bit more elegance and insights into the story being told, since some of these jokes seem to have been taken directly from an introduction into the most conventional, lowbrow gay jokes imaginable. Yet, once again, it’s a film that should be looked at not solely for what is being conveyed, but the manner in which it is done, as well as the deeper messages. Films like this and The Birdcage (which is even outright mentioned here, proving what a revolutionary film that was, as it was established as a classic of queer cinema almost immediately) opened the doors for conversations, and likely proved to be one of the most important mainstream films to deal directly with queerness in a way that was not mocking or condescending, but rather playful and respectful, which is a credit to both Oz and his cast, who put in the work to develop characters that are often quite stereotypical, but in a way that is never harmful or regressive. The best part of films that deal with queer issues is that there is rarely any chance to set the movement back – even in the rare case of something that outright criticizes the gay lifestyle, there will be fuel for further discussion. Visibility is the most important tool the queer community has in the continuous march towards equality, and while In & Out does not break a single record or do anything all that subversive, it creates an opportunity to strengthen the growing desire for acceptance in a community that benefits from compassionate and charming works like this, since it makes these conversations accessible and entertaining for all viewers.

Any film that can find a way to entertain populist viewers while still subtly infusing the story with a very deep meaning is immediately going to be of interest. Perhaps it has not been upheld as a work that is all that impactful in exploring the gay experience, but it never intended to be. There are many ways in which In & Out could have been genuinely harmful – the humour could have been done entirely at the expense of the gay community (especially since the main impetus of the film is the reconciliation between a man’s queer identity and existence in a small town in the Midwest, where conservative values are followed with gospel-like severity), and it could have just been a string of vaguely homophobic jokes done to appease the large portion of the population that do not identify as part of the LGBTQIA+ community, and likely were not seeing themselves reflected here in the way that some of them may have preferred. Yet, there’s so much sincerity in how Oz approaches this material, and while some of the off-colour jokes could have been elided, they do reveal a pertinent snapshot of what perceptions around queerness were like in the 1990s, a decade recent enough for a lot of these values to still be present, but also having enough distance for us to look back and see how far we’ve come. It’s not definitive of queer storytelling (especially since it is predated by decades of work by queer filmmakers that were restricted to the underground and independent cinema), but it is a platform for a narrative that opens the floodgates for conversation, and allows us to be equally entertained and informed, which is extremely important, and is the precise reason this film has been cherished for the past quarter of a century, remaining a beloved and charming work of socially-charged comedy.