While there is a rule of thumb that states that tragedy plus time equals comedy, there are some subjects that are considered too taboo to be subjected to humour, or at least the kind of comedy that is appreciated by general audiences. HIV/AIDS is one such subject – despite the considerable efforts to eradicate the disease and improve the lives of those living with the condition, conversations around it are still quite challenging, and as a result, it’s a topic that is almost always discussed in more somber terms, or at least this was the case for the first couple of decades, with the mindset now shifting towards showing that the disease is not the death sentence it was in the past any longer – but it still doesn’t necessarily facilitate much space for humour even today. Surprisingly, there is a comedy film centered around HIV/AIDS, and even more unexpected is the fact that it isn’t a contemporary work, but rather one produced in the mid-1990s, only about a decade since public awareness of the disease began to emerge. Jeffrey, based on the play of the same title by Paul Rudnick, is a fascinating document – adapted and directed by journeyman filmmaker Christopher Ashley, the film focuses on the titular character, a down-on-his-luck actor in Manhattan who decides that he is tired of fearing being infected by this illness, and to avoid it, he decides to become celibate all together, a plan that goes well until he almost immediately meets Steven, who throws his entire plan into disarray almost immediately, and we watch as these two men flirt with the idea of succumbing to their clear mutual attraction, but also avoiding the difficult discussion that lingers over them like a specter, especially when Steven reveals that he is HIV+, causing even more complications to their burgeoning romance. Hilarious and heartfelt in equal measure, Jeffrey is a surprisingly complex film, taking this challenging text (which became quite a sensation when it premiered on stage, contradicting the idea that a play about HIV/AIDS could never be successful) and transforming it into a film that not only entertaining but also essential.

Ashley is not a director whose name is immediately recognizable, at least not cinematically – he has done quite a bit of work for the screen, but his greatest contributions are in the theatre. As a result, having him helm a film with such challenging themes seemed to be a risk – but considering he shepherded the original production (and the original playwright was already onboard to adapt his work), it was a decision based on the need to have people at the forefront who understood not only the material as it was written but also knew how to deliver it in such a way that it was both entertaining and insightful. Humour is a powerful tool – it isn’t only a means to ensure that audiences enjoy a certain story, but it can bear the burden of handling some more challenging ideas and presenting them in a more accessible, palatable way. The fact remains that regardless of how you approach it, HIV/AIDS is a dour topic that will immediately sober up even the most entertaining of conversations, and very few would ever consider it appropriate as the subject of any work of humour. However, Jeffrey manages to be a very lighthearted, upbeat comedy that centres on the subject and somehow manages to not only have it as the foundation of the story but present it in such a way that is honest but never flippant or inappropriate. The humour the film employs never makes a mockery of the illness or the people suffering from it, and while there are a few tender jabs directed at the stigma that surrounds it, the victims (both deceased and living with the illness) are never the subject of mockery or crude humour. Instead, it is the mentality surrounding it, and how it is perceived, that leads to some of the most compelling use of humour, which is unexpectedly quite deep while still being very funny at the same time, proving how a well-crafted work of comedy can transcend boundaries and make even the most difficult of subjects accessible, removing the idea that we can only talk about it in hushed, sombre tones, rather than being open and honest about it as a concept.

However, it is the willingness to look beyond the central subject matter and embrace other ideas in addition to the more serious conversation that exists at the core of the story that gives Jeffrey a lot of nuance and prevents it from being merely a one-dimensional story about this illness. HIV/AIDS may be the foundation of the story, but there is so much more to this film, which is one of the most endearing and honest celebrations of queerness ever committed to film. The 1990s were a watershed moment for queer issues on film – there were several mainstream films, veering to either the comedic or dramatic, that examined these issues in detail, bringing LGBTQIA+ matters to much wider audiences, many of whom likely didn’t entirely understand the mechanics of the community or why representation was important. Yet, a lot of these films were slightly more placid and tempered their content down to be appealing to a much wider audience. That is not the case here, since Jeffrey is quite a ribald, scintillating film – nothing is inherently explicit and everything is kept quite decent, but there is an underlying queerness that drives this film, particularly in how it examines the theme of desire, which is central to the plot. This is a film about gay men who are not questioning their sexuality or battling to fit into the hostile world that surrounds them, but rather a fervent, often quite provocative, celebration of what it means to be queer. Composed of vignettes that follow Jeffrey in his day-to-day life, particularly his interactions with other members of the community and allies that accompany them, the film is a wonderful exploration of queer joy, something that is always wonderful to see portrayed in such frank, honest terms. Lust and desire are very much present in this film, and it never hides how much sexuality factors into the lives of these characters, and proves to be a lot more detailed in how it investigates these ideas, keeping an upbeat tone but still peering deep into the often quite challenging themes that populate the film.

The only legitimate flaw we can find with Jeffrey is that it is a film that consists almost entirely of a cast of straight, white male actors playing the role of gay men, which is not a reason to dismiss this film but does mean that we missed the opportunity to see some openly queer actors (particularly actors of colour, with the image of the LGBTQIA+ community in this film being slightly too monochrome in relation to reality) occupying these roles and being able to express the same sense of queer joy that makes this film wonderful. However, this doesn’t mean any of the performances are not worth our time – in fact, almost everyone in this film is exceptional and is doing some career-best work. Steven Weber, who has mostly resigned to being a well-liked character actor, was still at the point of trying to be a leading man, and taking on the titular role in Jeffrey seemed like a good way to show his versatility. He’s wonderful, bringing this otherwise quite bland character to life with so much humanity and honesty. Jeffrey is not an easy character to play, since he is essentially a cipher onto which the more eccentric supporting cast adds colour, his more subdued personality serving to balance out their peculiarities. Yet, Weber still holds his own and turns in a very strong performance. He’s joined by an absolutely terrific supporting cast, including Patrick Stewart in one of his most irreverent and hilarious performances (as well as one that contains a genuinely heartbreaking moment of pure, unhinged emotion, something we don’t often find from the usually stoic and reserved Stewart), as well as Michael T. Weiss and Bryan Batt as the other major characters, both of which are terrific and bring a lot of gravitas to the roles. The film also contains a cavalcade of unforgettable one-scene performances from icons such as Nathan Lane, Christine Baranski, Olympia Dukakis (whose performance as a mother processing the experience of having a trans child) and Sigourney Weaver, as well as several smaller performers who are all absolutely terrific. Jeffrey is very much a character-based comedy, and the strong performances scattered throughout do leave quite a strong impression, enough to sustain the film’s many audacious ideas and sometimes overly precocious way of approaching some subjects.

An honest and forthright comedy about very difficult issues, Jeffrey is quite an achievement, and its relative obscurity is bewildering, especially considering how ahead of its time it was, particularly in how it presents one of the most honest and layered depictions of queerness ever captured on film, at a time when this subject as a whole was usually broached with some degree of caution. Not a film that is entirely free of imperfections, the film handles its various shortcomings that would be inherent to such a project with elegance – a couple of conversations may be heavy-handed and quite obvious in what they are trying to convey, but for a film released in 1995, to have such a vivid and honest series of conversations around acceptance, sexuality and living with an incurable disease was very important. Watching this film today is still exhilarating and a wonderful experience, so one can only imagine how it felt to be a queer person in 1995, sitting in a cinema and seeing your life not only reflected on screen but being explicitly told that you are accepted and a valuable member of a community that cares for each other, especially at a time when society was seemingly at war with the LGBTQIA+ on the subject of social issues. It’s a film that is groundbreaking in its own small but significant way, and even if we just view it as an effort to give a more mainstream platform to broader social and cultural issues relating to the queer community, Jeffrey is still a remarkable piece of storytelling, carefully pieced together to extract all meaning, carrying a genuine sense of empathy while also managing to be wildly entertaining and genuinely very heartwarming, delivering a serious message with compassionate humour and a lot of joy, which immediately makes it worth our time. It may not be entirely perfect, but its intentions are pure and its ideas important, which is ultimately more than enough to keep such a film afloat, and allow it to be ripe for rediscovery by the current generation, who will likely find a lot of value in this film’s more peculiar but still very resonant worldview.