Screenwriter Andrew Davies describes Tipping the Velvet, his adaptation of Sarah Waters's acclaimed novel of lesbian love, betrayal and redemption in Victorian England, as "Pride and Prejudice with dirty bits". This three-part BBC production chronicles with relish the story of Nan Astley (Rachael Stirling, the ravishing image of her mother, Diana Rigg), barely 18, and certain that life holds more for her than her oyster girl's existence. "You'll meet someone who'll have your head spinning and your legs turning to jelly", her sister promises. That someone surprisingly turns out to be "gay and bold" Kitty Butler (Keeley Hawes), a music-hall entertainer with whom Nan falls instantly, and swooningly, in love. Nan follows her to London, where, as a double act, they become the toast of London, until Kitty's "marriage of convenience" breaks up the act and Nan's heart. The outcast Nan, decked out in Victor/Victoria duds, becomes a streetwalker, and then "tart" to the aptly named Diana Leatherby (Anna Chancellor). This affair, too, comes to "a bad end" as a destitute Nan is deposited back on the streets, where she insinuates herself into the lives of Florence (Jodhi May), a social worker, and her socialist brother. Is Nan "too spoiled and stained for love"? Will she risk her blossoming relationship with Florence when Kitty inevitably returns to rekindle their affair? Nan's couplings, while tastefully done, do carry what Waters calls "a queer erotic charge". They are graphic by BBC standards. But the sterling writing and performances will captivate even the most sensitive viewers, making this groundbreaking mini-series, to quote one character, "a delightful evening. [+]

The third season of The L Word is all about transitions. The season opens with Alice Pieszecki (Leisha Hailey) coping with her between-seasons break-up with Dana Fairbanks (Erin Daniels), who is herself headed for an even heavier series of transitions. Kit Porter (Pam Grier) both falls in love with a younger man and discovers she is going through menopause. Shane (Katherine Moennig), who spent much of the first two seasons of the show hopping from bed to bed, finds herself more or less committed to Latina deejay Carmen (Sarah Shahi). And the second season's resident villain, Helena Peabody (Rachel Shelley), becomes embroiled in a sexual harassment case that leaves her ultimately looking like the victim. As with previous seasons, The L Word gets all hot and bothered with various seductions filmed to sometimes jarring music on the soundtrack, but it's the day-to-day foibles and celebrations of Los Angeles's lesbian community that keep the show interesting. Newcomer Moira/Max (Daniela Sea) begins the process of gender reassignment, making for some curious situations with potential employers. Bette (Jennifer Beals) and Tina (Laurel Holloman) begin to drift apart when Tina lands a big movie studio job and starts feeling attracted to men, leading to a custody battle over their baby daughter. Where The L Word starts getting preachy and obvious is in the opening flashback sequences. When these vignettes refer to current characters of the show, they make sense; when they depict situations meant to underline how queer identity has evolved over the years, they seem politically overloaded. [+]

There's a reason why Cindy Crawford was dubbed "Baby Gia" when she first hit the modeling scene. Indeed, Crawford, now the world's best-known supermodel, greatly resembled model Gia Carangi, who went from high school to the cover of British Vogue in less than two years. Carangi appeared on many more covers of Vogue (French, British, Italian, and American) and Cosmopolitan before dying of complications from AIDs (she was an IV heroin user) in 1986. Now most people recognise Carangi's name from this powerful HBO film that stars Golden Globe-winner Angelina Jolie, who comes by her talent honestly. Jolie is the daughter of veteran actor Jon Voight, and her own training as a model serves her well-she has the moves. Throughout, she's heartbreaking-as no doubt the real Carangi was-effective, and stunning. With good source material (Stephen Fried's A Thing of Beauty: The Tragedy of Supermodel Gia), Jolie's stunning performance, and strong directing by Michael Cristofer, the movie goes beyond the merely sensational. The script was co-written by Cristofer and novelist Jay McInerney, whose Bright Lights, Big City covers similar territory. As a cautionary tale, Gia works. But to watch Jolie in her character's tragic self-destruction is utterly compelling. [+]

If the third season was marked by transitions, The L Word's fourth concerns growing up-or trying to, at any rate. Shane (Katherine Moennig) becomes her brother Shay's guardian, Bette (Jennifer Beals) and Tina (Laurel Holloman) stop fighting over their daughter Angelica, and Bette's new boss, Phyllis (a very game Cybill Shepherd), decides it's time to embrace her true nature. So, after 25 years of marriage (Bruce Davison plays her husband), Chancellor Kroll comes out of the closet-and sets her sights on Alice (Leisha Hailey). For all the inclusiveness, Max (Daniela Sea), still remains on the margins. Dumped by Jenny (Mia Kirshner) the year before, Max continues to share her apartment while acclimating to life as a man. For those who felt season three was too dark, four offers a welcome corrective. There's still plenty of angst-Jenny's memoir meets with a few negative notices (Heather Matarazzo's journalist pens the harshest critique) and Helena (Rachel Shelley) learns to live without Mommy's money-but there are plenty of moving moments to compensate (most revolving around Shane and Shay). New additions also arrive to shake things up, like Marlee Matlin as an artist who helps Bette to broaden her horizons, Kristanna Loken as a single mother with a yen for Shane, and Rose Rollins as an Iraq War veteran with whom Alice has a tryst (leading to a well intentioned, if heavy-handed message about how even liberals should support the troops). As in seasons past, the directorial line-up impresses as much as the acting talent, and includes Oscar winner Marleen Gorris (Antonia's Line) and playwright Moisés Kaufman (The Laramie Project). -Kathleen C. [+]

Four years after the American version of Queer as Folk made gay men the focus, it was time for a little turnabout with The L Word (bad title, great show). Centering around a tight-knit group of lesbians in Los Angeles, this drama was far removed from its working-class male counterpart in both style and content. While the men of QAF enjoyed a fabulous if melodramatic life on the middle-class streets of Pittsburgh, the women of The L Word lived it up in sunny California, with gorgeous houses, glamorous careers, and sexy wardrobes. Ironically, though, The L Word adhered more to the everyday drama of ensemble shows like thirtysomething than the soap opera antics of QAF, and the results were surprisingly heartfelt and effective, appropriately stylish but never over the top. There was plenty of room for titillation, but creator Ilene Chaiken fashioned from the start a show centered on characters and not just sex, aiming for the heart rather than. well, other places. The L Word focused primarily on committed couple Bette (Jennifer Beals) and Tina (Laurel Holloman), a former power-career duo who've decided to have a baby; however, artificial insemination and the changing dynamics of their relationship throw their previously happy existence off-kilter. Within their orbit are spunky journalist Alice (Leisha Hailey), sultry hairdresser Shane (Katherine Moenning), closeted pro tennis player Dana (Erin Daniels), and espresso bar owner Marina (Karina Lombard) who, in the show's most polarising storyline, bedded the seemingly straight Jenny (Mia Kirschner) and shook up her heterosexual world. [+]

In his aim to make an honest film about sex, John Cameron Mitchell (Hedwig and the Angry Inch) has taken a somewhat documentary approach to Shortbus, a film describing various New Yorkers' sexual pathos. Framed by shots roving a homemade diorama of the city, Shortbus is comprised of vignettes featuring actors who helped craft this story of people's disconnect in sexual endeavors. Jamie (PJ DeBoy) and James (Paul Dawson), a gay couple experiencing a lull in their relationship, visit Sophia (Sook-Yin Lee), a sex therapist whose inability to orgasm results in her clients inviting her to a sex club after which the film is titled. Sophia's husband, Rob (Raphael Barker), is also willing to experiment, so the two independently embark on adventures in self-pleasure. Dominatrix Severin (Lindsay Beamish) plays a crucial role in Sophia and Rob's lives, as her search for real humanity overlaps with their desire for passion. As each character's plot complicates, the viewer sees a similar melancholy bulldozing its way into these seemingly disparate lives. The depression is repeatedly used in comedic scenes, such as when James is asked on a date while still hospitalised for his attempted suicide. Yo La Tengo's score, which includes Animal Collective among others, lends this film a graceful ambience. Unlike porn, Shortbus has a resonance that encourages the viewer to consider one's own sex life as an important aspect of happiness. -Trinie Dalton.

A sad, melancholy ache pervades Brokeback Mountain, Ang Lee's haunting, moving film that, like his other movies, explores societal constraints and the passions that lurk underneath. This time, however, instead of taking on ancient China, 19th-century England, or '70s suburbia, Lee uses the tableau of the American West in the early '60s to show how two lovers are bound by their expected roles, how they rebel against them, and the repercussions for each of doing so-but the romance here is between two men. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are two itinerant ranchers looking for work in Wyoming when they meet and embark on a summer sheepherding job in the shadow of titular Brokeback Mountain. The taciturn Ennis, uncommunicative in the extreme, finds himself opening up around the gregarious Jack, and the two form a bond that surprisingly catches fire one cold night out in the wilderness. Separating at the end of the summer, each goes on to marry and have children, but a reunion years later proves that, if anything, their passion for each other has grown significantly. And while Jack harbours dreams of a life together, the tight-lipped Ennis is unable to bring himself to even consider something so revolutionary. Its open, unforced depiction of love between two men made Brokeback an instant cultural touchstone, for both good and bad, as it was tagged derisively as the "gay cowboy movie," but also heralded as a breakthrough for mainstream cinema. Amidst all the hoopla of various agendas, though, was a quiet, heartbreaking love story that was both of its time and universal-it was the quintessential tale of star-crossed lovers, but grounded in an ever-changing America that promised both hope and despair. Adapted by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana from Annie Proulx's short story, the movie echoes the sparse bleakness of McMurtry's The Last Picture Show with its fading of the once-glorious West; but with Lee at the helm, it also resembles The Ice Storm, as it showed the ripple effects of a singular event over a number of people. As always, Lee's work with actors is unparalleled, as he elicits graceful, nuanced performances from Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway as the wives affected overtly and subliminally by their husbands' affair, and Gyllenhaal brings surprising dimensions to a character that could have easily just been a puppy dog of a boy. [+]

The drama was poured on aplenty in the second season of The O. C. , as the sun-dappled denizens of Orange County found their lives massively upended and then some. At the end of the first season, the Cohen household had been reduced to two-parents Sandy and Kirsten (Peter Gallagher and Kelly Rowan)-as the boys had flown the coop, moody Ryan (Benjamin McKenzie) back to Chino and goofy Seth (Adam Brody) for the wide expanse of the Pacific (somehow ending up in Portland, Oregon). Once the prodigal sons returned home, thanks to a lot of persuading, both tried to mend relationships with their former girlfriends, Marissa (Mischa Barton) and Summer (Rachel Bilson). While friendships were solidified, everyone was dating someone else: Seth was with sultry club manager Alex (Olivia Wilde), Summer with sensitive polo jock Zach (Michael Cassidy), Ryan with smart girl Lindsay (Shannon Lucio), and Marissa with her family's pool guy and a bottle of vodka. That's just the first half of this year of The O. C. , and we haven't even gotten to the adults yet. Both Sandy and Kirsten found themselves tempted away by more-than-willing suitors, and wicked Julie (Melinda Clarke), Marissa's mom, cheated on new husband Caleb (Alan Dale) with ex-husband Jimmy (Tate Donovan). [+]

If you don't care too much for Adam Sandler's comedies, then I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry is absolutely not the film to convert you. But if you are one of the many who continually enjoys his films, then his latest is well worth checking out. I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry sees Sandler as Chuck and Kevin James as Larry, a pair of firefighters who become domestic partners to help protect the latter's children. It perhaps goes without saying that this is a reluctant union, and Sandler's character goes to great lengths to demonstrate the fact that he's heterosexual. Yet if you can tolerate the cheapness of much of the material, it's hard not to find yourself chuckling at it. The film boasts a supporting cast including the likes of Jessica Biel (as a conveniently attractive lawyer), Ving Rhames and Steve Buscemi, and does manage to consistently serve up the laughs. It also finds room to squeeze in Dan Aykroyd and Rob Schneider as well. And while there's nothing particularly clever about I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry, it very much does what it offers on the proverbial tin. It's Sandler, in a fish out of water situation, reacting against it. Switch your brain and sensitivities off, and you may well have a ball with it. [+]