Far from Heaven is a uniquely beautiful film from one of the smartest and most idiosyncratic of contemporary directors, Todd Haynes (Safe and Velvet Goldmine). It takes the lush 1950s visual style of so-called women's pictures (particularly those of Douglas Sirk, director of Imitation of Life and Magnificent Obsession) to tell a story that mixes both sexual and racial prejudice. Julianne Moore, portraying an amazing fusion of vulnerability and will power, plays a housewife whose husband (Dennis Quaid) has a secret gay life. When she finds solace in the company of a black gardener (Dennis Haysbert), rumours and peer pressure destroy any chance she has at happiness. It's astonishing how a movie with such a stylised veneer can be so emotionally compelling; the cast and filmmakers have such an impeccable command of the look and feel of the genre that every moment is simultaneously artificial and deeply felt. Far from Heaven is ingenious and completely engrossing. -Bret Fetzer.

Kissing Jessica Steinis not a conventional single-girl rom-com. Woody Allen taught us that singletons are neurotic, Sex & the City showed us their sass, Bridget Jones brought out their vulnerable side, and together they wrote the textbook of movie singledom. While Kissing Jessica Stein is clearly in on these conventions, its heroine takes an entirely different path to spice up her personal life. Impulsively answering a personal ad from another woman, Jessica Stein embarks on a tentative relationship with gallery owner Helen. But the couple have crossed purposes-Helen being more overtly sexual-leading Jessica to decide whether her ersatz sexual identity is the real thing, or if it's the companionship she's after. Wordy and witty, it's easy to spot the film's stage origins, but also easy to attribute this level of intelligence and humour to the two charming leading ladies, Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Juergensen. Similarly, while Jessica is almost certainly not gay, the on-screen spark between the two women is enough to justify their relationship. Kissing Jessica Stein asserts that sexual experimentation needn't lead to a massive personal revelation, nor pigeonholing oneself. At the film's heart is peoples' need to find intimacy, a sensitive subject that's treated with humour and gentle irony. This is one date that'll leave you smiling. [+]

Felicity Huffman deserves every award she's received for her outstanding performance in Transamerica, a small but rich movie about Bree-formerly Stanley-a pre-operative male-to-female transexual awaiting gender-reassignment surgery who learns she has a wayward teenage son named Toby. When her therapist (Elizabeth Peña, Jacob's Ladder) strongarms Bree into facing her past, she bails Toby (Kevin Zegers, Dawn of the Dead) out of jail and they end up on a road trip across the country. Such a premise could feel forced, but the script and performances make it persuasive and natural. Bree wrestles with discomfort and compassion as she learns about Toby's own troubles, even while her own grow worse when she's forced to ask for help from her hostile parents (the superb Fionnula Flanagan, The Others, and Burt Young, Rocky). Transamerica doesn't push for any great catharsis, but instead slowly peels away the layers of Bree's defenses, laying bare her basic struggle for respect and a chance at happiness. In many ways it's a showy role, but Huffman (Desperate Housewives) keeps her acting simple, direct, and thoroughly compelling. -Bret Fetzer.

They're here, they're queer, and they make Sex & The City look like a demure tea party. Showtime's quintessentially American Queer As Folk-based on the British miniseries-pours on copious amounts of hot and steamy sex. This slick (and slickly entertaining) series shares the same basic concept as its British counterpart-centering on a group of gay friends living in a primarily industrial city-but after that, all bets are off. Whereas the British version focused on the gritty, realistic drama of its characters, the American QAF is a glossy, fun soap opera that occasionally tackles big issues but never lets you forget that life at times can be a party, and you shouldn't be one of those poor suckers starving to death. A good part of the show's charm lies in its cast-boy-next-door Michael (Hal Sparks), ruthlessly seductive rake Brian (Gale Harold), out-and-proud Emmett (Peter Paige), wallflower Ted (Scott Lowell), and nubile teen Justin (Randy Harrison)-who grew from standard gay prototypes to intriguing characters by the first season's end. And while some subplots didn't work (such as Emmett's farfetched foray into gay-conversion therapy), others were quietly affecting, including Brian's coping with his father's death. Some may object to the show's relentless fixation on sex (and gay men-there are just two lesbian characters), but this is a series that in its own polished way is both engrossingly fun and truly groundbreaking. It's liberating to watch an American TV series in which the straight world is only peripheral. Let's hear it for the boys! -Mark Englehart.

Once a series has broken new ground, where does it go from there? Showtime's The L Word, concerning the relationships of a community of lesbian Los Angelenos, turned heads with its smart, funny writing and fully realized characters. Season Two offers more of the same, with some notable guest stars and experiments in narrative and music. This season, Jenny (Mia Kirshner) fully embraces her sexuality as her ex-husband/roomie (Eric Mabius) departs and voyeuristic documentary filmmaker Mark (Eric Lively) and womanchaser Shane (Katherine Moennig) move in. Shane and Jenny struggle good-heartedly over the affections of new character Carmen (Sarah Shahi), who isn't given much to do plot-wise apart from occasionally spinning records and serving as one corner of the love triangle. Bette (Jennifer Beals) and Tina (Laurel Holloman) start the season on the rocks due to Bette's infidelity; the introduction of the one-dimensionally nasty Helena Peabody (Rachel Shelley) causes further friction between Bette and Tina while playing havoc with Bette's curatorial career. Meanwhile, Dana (Erin Daniels) and Alice (Leisha Hailey) go from being best friends to being a whole lot more, providing some of the most touching scenes of the season. Kit (Pam Grier) takes on The Planet, the seeming center of LA's lesbian universe, converting it into a nightclub where, conveniently, guest-starring bands can play. Strong points of the season include Bette and Kit confronting the death of their father (the superb Ossie Davis) and Shane's new job as a gopher for a high-powered Hollywood producer (the equally superb Camryn Manheim). Less strong are the distracting, neo-expressionistic passages meant to be glimpses into Jenny's creative mind and the interminable use of the series' theme song-re-interpreted in a number of genres-to the point of distraction. Mark's voyeurism, which crosses all sorts of boundaries as he installs hidden cameras around the house, is a brilliant way to challenge male viewers who may tune in just to TiVo their way to the sex scenes. [+]