Pride on the Silver Screen: Fargo-Moorhead LGBT Film Festival Returns in Full Color

On the rural festival’s 16th birthday, uplifting queer stories, histories, joy and resistance will be at the center of the showings at the Fargo-Moorhead LGBT Film Festival this year, spanning from October 2-5.

Shawn Cotter, Fargo-Moorhead Festival Director, says there is a deeply-rooted need for queer film festivals to exist, with media in general disvaluing queer stories by underrepresentation and going into “pigeon holes” when it comes to queer characters’ fates.

“You know, lesbians are constantly dying in media, and it’s like — what? Why?” they say. “It’s the same thing with gay men in the ‘80s and ‘90s — everyone died of AIDS. Queer women have a similar pattern. It’s always cancer, you know?”

As a queer activist in a small populated area, Cotter says that one of the biggest challenges is being “spread thin,” with there being lots of work to get done, but not enough folks to do so.

Each year, there are usually around 200 submissions, including those that Cotter himself obtains from active recruitment from distribution partners he has worked with at other festivals, one of them being the European Film Market in Berlin.

Cotter says he attends festivals like these as opposed to more mainstream festivals like Sundance because of the inclusion of queer sub-programs, ones that hold spaces, breakout rooms, speed pitch meetings and networking opportunities for queer people.

When selecting films, Cotter says he looks for films that aren’t too traumatic, selecting films that put queer joy and centricity at the forefront.

“Looking back at previous showings, I wonder, ‘Why did we show a film where the gay best friend is the secondary character … what does this have to do with our lives?’” Cotter says.

In 2022, just 23.6% of films included LGBTQ+ characters. In 2023: 27.3%. Yet, in the most recent GLAAD Studio Responsibility Index, only 23.6% of films included LGBTQ+ characters, with several of the characters in less prominent roles.

“It’s just one of those things — what can we do better? There’s a huge history of queer representation in cinema,” Cotter says. “Through the work I’ve done with Wicked Query and also in Fargo-Moorhead, I’ve realized the breadth of queer experience and storytelling through film. It’s kind of amazing, especially internationally.”

According to the 2024 GLAAD Studio Responsibility Index, Netflix launched 49 total films, with 14 being LGBTQ+-inclusive, ranking as “poor” on the GLAAD scale. A24 produced 16 films, and nine of them were LGBTQ+-inclusive.

“I feel like we have to give ourselves permission to be homo-centric, to be queer-loving, and also try not to get lost in the quicksand of how heavy life is,” Cotter says.

What makes the festival so special is the direct access the audience has to the filmmakers, with the crowds post-showing in the historic 1920s Fargo Theatre, housing conversation, connection and a deep appreciation for queer films within its walls.

This year, Cotter says he is shooting for six program blocks, with an emphasis on what he refers to as “wine pairings,” pairing shorts with longer-form feature films.

Not only will wine be “served,” Cotter says he hopes the programming gives the effect of a “pie in the face moment,” a celebration of letting loose and throwing glitter onto everything. “We need to start throwing more pies.”

With over a decade of experience in directing and programming, Cotter says one of the most important things he has learned is to consistently ask yourself, ‘Who am I reaching to?’ emphasizing the vitality of continuing to learn about others in the work you do.

“I feel like my life is enriched by the work that I do,” Cotter says. “I see lesbian stories, I see trans stories, I’ve seen nonbinary stories. I see BIPOC stories. I see, you know, stories that are not my own, and I can learn things from them.”

When it comes to emerging filmmakers in the industry, not discounting the value of smaller film festivals and simply picking up a camera, talking to other filmmakers and not aiming for perfection because there simply is “no formula.”

“We constantly see our stories being silenced and our people being erased,” Cotter says. “The more we can do it for us and by us, the better off we’ll be. We can’t wait around for others to tell our stories or to save us from the tide that’s coming. We need to act.”